


Pieces of Vlad

by Regina_Northwort



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Blood Drinking, Body Horror, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Humiliation, M/M, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-binary Sypha, Not Canon Compliant, Nudity, Oral Sex, Post Season 1, Self-Harm, Teasing, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 46
Words: 66,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_Northwort/pseuds/Regina_Northwort
Summary: Will the last Belmont son make peace with the ghosts of his family and embrace the heroism in his blood line? Will a young dhampir find a place he belongs in the world? And will a haunted castle please stop misgendering Sypha?The trio have to fulfill a prophecy, if they figure out what it means, get along with each other, and not get destroyed by the very people they are trying to save."When Scholar and Hunter/ have made the army three/ they storm the mourning castle/ to set the devil free/ Hunt the rib and nail/ rest the eye and fang/ know the ring and heart/ and staunch the warlord's reign" -- Elena, Galben Speaker, Targoviste, 1475ADRIAN (ALUCARD) LOSSES HIS FANGS IN THIS FIC! PROCEED WITH CAUTION





	1. Adrian's Stronghold

Trevor Belmont had crawled out of hell before. Of course, if the church was right, his whole family had done that; ripped up from the bowels of the earth to corrupt mankind. What would Leon say, that esteemed and noble Belmont, if could see him in a reluctant alliance with a witch and a vampire? 

Trevor sighed. He led the way out of Adrian's chamber. He wasn't a philosopher, and certainly not a priest. He could leave the speculation to them, and focus on getting out of this collapsing stronghold before Gresit crumbled on top of them.

"You came in through this?" Adrian asked. He looked through the gap in his ceiling, and toed the rubble disdainfully.

"Fell down a hole, remember?"

Sypha didn't say anything. They seemed to be bracing themselves, ready to conjure up a wall of ice if Trevor and Adrian drew blades again.

"There is an easier way," Adrian said. He strode past them, down the dark hall, and took a right. An ashen hand waived back to Trevor and Sypha, beckoning.

Sypha raised an eyebrow at Trevor as they passed.

"Try to be nice?"

"Sure," Trevor said, "Till he bites."

He followed them into the dark.

The way was blocked by another huge gear, similar to the ones that had threatened to crush Trevor and Sypha several times. There was a metallic groan as Adrian got his hands under the teeth of the gear. He heaved it aside. Sypha held up a small, flickering flame in their hand. It illuminated the opening Adrian had made. Trevor squinted. At the end of the hallway, gold glint caught the light.

"After you," Adrian said. He bowed Sypha through the space between gear and wall. He straightened and stepped aside as Trevor followed them.

Trevor could see better from the other side. It was a door, lined in gold like the paneling in Adrian's chamber- and on his coffin.

Trevor narrowed his eyes. He looked back at Adrian. He decided he did not like having Adrian out of his sight, or behind him. 

"What's this?"

"One of my father's inventions," Adrian said. He wasn't ducking his face to hide his teeth anymore. Seeing his fangs made Trevor reach for the whip at his side on instinct. Sypha shot him a glare, but Adrian didn't seem to notice. He was still talking. "A room that moves from floor to floor. An elevator, he called it. It runs through a shaft with a chain. And with a simple motor for the pulley, it can bring us back to the surface."

He got to the door and slid it open, revealing a small, featureless room.

Sypha peered in. "Is it magical?"

Adrian shook his head. "Just machines."

They both entered.

Trevor looked down. Between the hallway floor and the room, he saw a small gap of endless dark.

"And if this death trap falls apart like everything else? We hurtle down to painful deaths and this whole prophecy comes to jackshit?"

"If I couldn't kill you, Belmont, an elevator won't," Adrian said. He kept the door open for Trevor.

"Fine," Trevor said. He stepped in. It was better than staying out here with Adrian looking at him. The vampire's gold eyes made Trevor feel sick.

Adrian eased the door closed. There was a bad moment where something rattled above them. The floor shook and creaked like a tree about to fall. Trevor noticed Adrian's shoulders tense under his cloak.

The room started to rise with another rattle. Adrian's shoulders relaxed and Sypha let out a sigh of relief.

"So, this was all a test, then?" Sypha asked, "The fight?"

Adrian kept his face behind his hair as he answered. He looked, suddenly, like a guilty child. "Yes."

"Then why prolong it?" Sypha demanded. "Trevor almost stabbed you."

"I did stab him," Trevor said.

Adrian looked at Trevor. Trevor wondered if this was why he kept his hair so damn long. So he could hide behind curtains of it. It looked fucking ridiculous.

"It was not a test for you," Adrian said to Trevor. He tilted his head at Sypha. "But for her."

Sypha blinked. They looked at Adrian. "Them," they said, very quietly.

Adrian tilted his head in the opposite direction. Trevor watched him coldly. He had backed into the far corner of the box-shaped room, and folded his arms. He looked between Adrian and Sypha. Sypha was tensed up, with their clenched fists just visible under their long, draping sleeves. Adrian's brow furrowed. There was silence, except for the clicking and scraping of the box as it bore them up. Trevor was fine with letting the self-assured vampire squirm for a little bit.

"It was a test for, them," Adrian said at last. 

Sypha nodded, apparently put at ease again. "You had your hunter. But you still needed your scholar. Your magician."

"Yes," Adrian said, "Oh, and here we are."

As though on command, the room ground to a halt. Adrian slid the door open.

Trevor groaned. He recognized the room as soon as he saw the buzzing, blue lights. He'd fought a cyclops here, and saved Sypha. They had been close to finding their Sleeping Soldier after all. Sypha was going to rub his face in this.

Sypha, however, called out in delight. The Codrii Speakers had risen, and turned. They must have heard the grinding and creaking of the chain that had operated this "elevator". Sypha ran into their grandfather's arms.

"Sypha," the elder called, "You are well!" He squeezed his grandchild before letting them go.

"Grandpa, I found him!" Sypha said. "I found the Sleeping Soldier."

"Oh?"

Sypha turned. They paused, staring into the empty air behind them.

Trevor couldn't help it. He chuckled. He stood off to the side. Arn and the few of the other speakers glared at him. He wasn't here to make friends, and he did not believe their prophecy. But watching Sypha's face crumple with confusion was priceless.

They were so naive. Did they really think Adrian was going to be some mythical messiah, a perfect solution? Trevor recognized Adrian's weariness. Adrian kept his head low and his mouth closed for the same reason Trevor had worn his thick cloak. Neither of them belonged. They were both, he supposed, orphaned and exiled. It almost made Trevor feel sympathetic. Almost.

"Adrian?" Sypha asked.

He had not followed Sypha into the flickering blue light. As they called, he made a show of carefully sliding the door back into place. Covered in the shadows at the edge of the room, the "elevator" was almost invisible.

Adrian turned and stepped into the light. Speakers gasped. Arn stumbled backwards.

Sypha ignored this. They gestured from Adrian to their grandfather.

"Adrian, this is the Elder of the Codrii Speakers. Grandpa, this is,"

"Adrian Vlad Tepes," Adrian offered. He bowed politely to the older man. 

Trevor knew the elder was brave to the point of stupidity. Trevor still raised an eyebrow when he walked up to Adrian and extended a wrinkled hand to him.

They shook. It was awkward. This was a better show, Trevor decided, than watching all the good people of Gresit dying.

From above them all, a sound like thunder rumbled through the catacombs. Trevor looked up. Dust fell from the ceiling.

"Hate to interrupt," he said, "But there is a war going on up there."

"What?!" Adrian said. He turned to Sypha. "Is the horde here? Now?"

"Yes--" Sypha started.

"Then we need to go!" Adrian said. He strode through the speakers. They gave him a wide berth. 

Back to work, Trevor supposed. He followed Adrian. Just one disaster after another, right? Sypha followed them. They had a war to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things.
> 
> Thanks for reading! This is my first post/ fic. Kudos and comments much appreciated. 
> 
> I know he's Alucard in the games. I enjoyed his monologue at the start of Season 2. I'm still calling him Adrian. It's humanizing. *shrug*
> 
> I am using they/them pronouns for Sypha. I won't be exploring their gender identity much in fic, and this is really just my interpretation of the character's behaviors (especially how their grandfather and the rest of the speakers refer to them).


	2. Gresit Streets

The sun rose over Gresit. What had that stuck up merchant said? "This city has gone to shit." Gresit. Grey shit. Very appropriate.

Trevor cleaned his sword off on the leathery wing of a fallen demon. He had slain a dozen after he'd finally stumbled out of the catacombs. Sypha and Adrian, who had their damned magic to help them back up so many caved in floors and sliding tunnels, had emerged much faster. So, of course, they had managed more than he had. Not that Trevor was counting.

Trevor joined in the grim work of piling the bodies. For once, there were more demons than humans among the dead. Trevor's little defense effort in the town square had even held, despite the fucking bricks caving in.

The speakers reemerged to help the survivors. By mid-morning, they had a sense of the situation.

"Utter crap," Trevor said. The Elder nodded.

"Barely anyone has military training. We lost one of our pikemen last night and two more are injured. Provisions are low. Oh, and the city is falling the fuck apart under our feet."

The Elder sighed. He looked his age, suddenly, a little of the hope that kept him sprightly seeming to fade. "And the Bishop and his men are dead."

Trevor spat on the cobblestone. They were in a partially ruined inn, which had been converted into a kind of infirmary. He probably wasn't supposed to spit on the floor. But it wouldn't matter.

Personally, he was counting the death of the crazy Bishop as a silver lining, not a loss. Obviously, from the Elder's piercing glare, they weren't in agreement.

Trevor wondered how much of his horseshit this man was putting up with because he was supposed to be some prophesied hunter. He must be such a disappointment to these speakers. Of the long Belmont line, they'd gotten the crude, unwashed drunkard.

Trevor shrugged. He made for the door.

"Sypha's soldier is not what I expected," the Elder said.

Trevor looked back from the doorway. "Cause he's a fucking vampire?"

He gulped. "I trust my grandchild, but-"

Something strange surged in Trevor's stomach, drowning out his need for breakfast.

"I'll," Trevor started. He cleared his throat and tried again. He wasn't good at this hero shit. "I'll protect them, Elder. From whatever I can."

"Thank you."

"Yeah," Trevor said. He closed the door on the uncomfortable conversation, and the uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

Trevor found Sypha and Adrian before he found breakfast. Or, rather, he heard them. From two alleys away. Sypha was shouting.

Adrian and Sypha, yelling at each other and not at him? Trevor snuck over to investigate.

"How can you not care about these people?!" Sypha said. They threw out their arms and stared at Adrian.

Adrian winced. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Sypha," he said, "I care about them. Of course I do."

"But not enough to save them? Not enough to help?"

"The best way we can help them is by leaving. Immediately," Adrian said. 

Sypha opened their mouth. They closed it again. Trevor imagined what they were seeing here, how their savior was so obviously failing them. How could the Sleeping Soldier just leave Gresit?

The cogs in Trevor's brain turned. He blinked, and then he stared at Adrian.

"The night hordes aren't here for the people, are they?"

Adrian turned his head. "Belmont. When did you--?"

"You bastard," Trevor said. He jabbed a finger at Adrian. "He's sent his army after you! And you've used Gresit as a living shield."

Adrian flinched. "That's not-- that wasn't my intention."

"So that's why we need to leave?" Sypha demanded. "Because Dracula is looking for you, in Gresit?"

Adrian held out one hand for each of them, palm up, asking for space to speak. He considered Sypha. He glanced at Trevor.

"I confronted my father as soon as I could," Adrian said. "It was never supposed to come to this. But after our argument,"

"You mean, after he almost killed you," Trevor said. Adrian glared at him.

"After that, it took all of my power to get back here," Adrian said. He lowered his hands, and his head. "Sypha, I never meant to endanger the people. But all we can do for them now is lead the horde away."

"No," Sypha said. They folded their arms. "I can't accept that."

Trevor rubbed his hands together and wadded into the fight. "This city is lost," he said, "it's falling to fucking pieces. People are going to die, no matter how many demons we can lure away."

Adrian gritted his teeth. "If Dracula get's word that I am here, he will bring his castle, and his monsters, and all his terrible power down on these people."

"Great," Trevor said. "Castle comes here. Saves us a trip."

It was Adrian's turn to stare. "How can you be so blaise? This city would be doomed."

Trevor shrugged. "It already is."

Adrian sneered. "How like a Belmont, to decide which lives are forfeit."

"Better than cowering in my coffin and then running away," Trevor said.

"You ignorant--" Adrian started. His fists were curled. He swallowed back the last word before he could shout it.

"What, 'Alucard'?" Trevor asked. He stepped forward. "What were you going to call me? A mortal? Blood bag? Cattle?"

Adrian ducked his head. 

"What nasty words did he teach you, when your mother wasn't around? Did he tell you how little a human's life is worth?"

Adrian trembled. Rage, Trevor decided. His hand had moved to the hilt of his sword. Trevor reached for his whip.

"Wait!" Sypha said.

Adrian's head jerked to them. Trevor looked over. It wasn't an angry call. Sypha sounded excited. They stepped between Trevor and Adrian.

"I have it," they said. "I know how we can-- wait a minute."

Their eyes narrowed. Trevor hastily let go of his whip. Adrian fell into a more relaxed position, leaning into the shade of the alley wall.

"Were you going to fight again? Out here?"

"Of course not," Trevor said.

Adrian nodded. "We're fine. Now, Sypha, what were you saying?"

Sypha looked at him. They squared their shoulders, determined. "Evacuation."

"What?"

"We set up a caravan," Sypha said, "Trevor's right-- this city is falling apart. But if we can't stay,"

"We bring Gresit with us?" Trevor said. "We can barely defend these walls. How are we going to protect wagons?"

"It can be done," Sypha said, "and it must be."

"Can you do it?" Adrian asked. "Rally the people? Muster supplies?"

"My grandfather will help," Sypha said. 

Trevor sighed. He recognized that conviction. It ran from grandfather to child. He couldn't talk Sypha out of their plan, anymore than he could have convinced the speakers to flee the city the day before. His only hope was to influence the plan, talk some sense into it.

"There's a priest from last night, seemed halfway decent," Trevor said. "He might help."

"The one who made holy water?" Sypha asked.

Trevor grunted in confirmation. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Adrian shuddering. He took note of the response. Maybe he could ask the priest for a flask of the stuff. If Adrian ever became a problem, that was one more tool Trevor had. He had a duty now, not just an abstract obligation to slay vampires, but a promise to an old man who could curse him if his grandchild got bitten.

"Right," Trevor said. "I'll go talk to a priest then."

"We'll get wagons ready," Sypha said. They were already walking away.

"Very good. I-- uhh," Adrian said.

"Don't get a sunburn," Trevor said. He followed Sypha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I haven't given Sypha's grandfather a name and at this point I'm afraid to. Anyone have a recommendation?


	3. Evacuation

Not everyone left. This was to be expected. Trevor knew that. Adrian knew that. But it was difficult for Sypha to accept. Trevor caught them pleading alongside a daughter and granddaughter who could not convince their grandmother to leave her home, which was crumpled in like a smashed skull.

"Sypha," Trevor said, "Last wagon's ready."

Sypha waived Trevor away. They would be ready soon.

Trevor shrugged. He headed back to the city gates. Thirty two wagons trailed across the long, central road. A couple dozen extra horses and farm animals would trail at the end, and behind that, a mounted rear guard.

"Exactly where are we going, Belmont?"

Adrian called from the shade of the last wagon. Trevor smirked at Adrian's confusion. He wasn't about to admit that he had asked Sypha the same question as they'd discussed the evacuation plan. 

"Arges," Trevor said, "Apparently it's some great fortress, beating back the hordes."

"You don't believe it," Adrian said. 

"No. I don't," Trevor said. He handed a box to Adrian, who set it into the wagon. "But Arges is forty miles away. On bad roads. In winter."

"You're worried about the journey, not the destination."

"Yeah," Trevor said. He heaved up a second box and pushed it into Adrian's arms.

Adrian grabbed it and set it into the front of the wagon. Adrian was strong. He would be more useful at the gate, clearing the debris barricade that the people of Gresit had thrown up before the first attack. But the people didn't want Adrian around. They didn't want him near them. Even if they, like Sypha, believed in the sleeping soldier, he was unnerving up close. He was so clearly something from the other side. He was dangerous.

Trevor felt the same. Maybe it was a family trait, but he suspected it was a survival instinct.

That wasn't the weird thing. The weird thing was the way people were responding to Trevor. Even as he handed the last box off to Adrian, Trevor heard someone call his name. He turned around. The stable master waived for him. He offered Trevor his pick of horses for the road.

Trevor finished the conversation, dazed, with a set of reins in his hand.

This had been a strange day for Trevor. No one leered at him as they passed. People stared, and they stepped out of his way, and someone had offered him a loaf of bread, yes. But no one had been hostile to him. 

Trevor glanced back, and thought he saw Adrian's lip twitch. Trevor dropped the reins. He put a hand on the horse's neck. "Uhh, good girl."

"Anything else to load?" Adrian asked, very casually.

Trevor shook his head. He found the bags at the back of the saddle. He stuffed them. He didn't have many possessions, and they fit easily. He slipped a flask of water in, hoping Adrian didn't see. He contemplated fitting his assortment of daggers in with the crumpled shirt and the scattering of coins. But then he considered the long line of wagons in front of him. They looked so delicate, a fragile row of eggs lined up to be broken. He would keep his daggers. He would need them.

"Now, we wait," Trevor said. Around him, horses were being saddled. People ducked into wagons, every wagon except the last. Sypha joined the rest of the speakers. There was a family of three women behind them. The eldest was already saddled onto a mule.

Trevor shrugged. You couldn't save everyone, but he did envy Sypha and their capacity to try. He hadn't had that kind of energy in a long time.

After longer than it could possibly take for the last things to be loaded, a call went out from the front of the line. It was already afternoon. This had taken longer than they could afford. Sypha had talked about reaching a small village, Slanic, before sundown. At the rate they were moving, they'd be lucky to get through the city gates. They would have to camp on the road. 

Trevor swung himself onto the horse. They weren't even out of the city, and things had already gone to shit.

The first day of travel was quiet. The silence crawled up the back of Trevor's neck. He felt awkwardly positioned, exposed on his horse. As it was getting dark, he trotted to the front of the line. Sypha was in the foremost wagon. They ducked their head out when he called.

"So, Slanic then?" Trevor drawled.

Sypha scowled. They threw themselves out of the wagon and walked beside Trevor's horse.

Sypha whispered something. It got lost in the clunk of hooves and the groan of wooden wheels. 

"Come again?" Trevor said. He slid off the horse and leaned down.

"I cannot believe how long this is taking," Sypha said. They stomped beside Trevor. "These wagons move like snails."

"These aren't speakers," Trevor said. "Some of them have never been outside Gresit's walls."

"I know, I know," Sypha said. They shook the frustration out of their hands. "But can they feel the demons breathing down our necks? Must we stop for every bump in the road?"

Trevor shrugged. "This was your idea."

He paused. Sypha was frustrated. He was frustrated. 

"Can you use your magic, to speed things up?"

Sypha grimaced. "I could try. But," they looked around to the townsfolk surrounding them, and spoke even more quietly, "it would frighten them."

Trevor shrugged. "They're already frightened."

In another hour, as the sun set and the caravan curled itself into a semi-circle in a clearing off the road, Trevor could taste fear in the descending mist in the air. People setup fires for the evening. The meager flames weren't for cooking. Light provided the illusion of safety as nighttime curled around the exposed crescent of wagons.

Trevor set up the first watch. Adrian melted out of the gloom to join the rest. Trevor sent people to their posts with stern orders to not die, and then grabbed Adrian's arm.

"You need to keep watch later," Trevor said.

Adrian shrugged. "And I will. I don't need more sleep, Belmont."

"Fine," Trevor said, "But first, we need to talk."

"Are you fighting again?"

Adrian looked over Trevor's shoulder. Sypha walked towards them. They had a bowl in either hand.

"No," Adrian and Trevor said. 

"Good," Sypha said. She pushed a bowl into Trevor's hands. "You need to eat. And, Adrian?"

Adrian eyed the watery broth in Trevor's bowl. He looked at Sypha. "If you're about to ask me what I eat-- don't."

Trevor remembered the glass vats behind Adrian's coffin. They'd contained dark red fluid. He could make a guess what it was.

Sypha shuddered.

Adrian fidgeted at the cuffs of his sleeves as though they were suddenly of grand importance. Then he looked at Trevor. "Belmont, you had something to ask me?"

"Right," Trevor said, "What is this prophecy crap?"

Adrian sighed. He turned to Sypha. "This is your expertise, I believe."

"Alright," Sypha said. "But, come sit with me and the speakers."

So, when Trevor finally heard the prophecy, it was around a crackling fire. The flowing blue robes of the speakers around him looked like the black wrappings of shades in the dark. Sypha stood in the center, back lit by the fire. They took in a long breath, like a trained singer. They started to speak.

"The Sleeping Soldier is an old story," Sypha said, "A fragment, incomplete. But last year, at Targoviste, a speaker heard the words in the fire that Dracula rained down on the city."

Trevor heard Adrian wince behind him.

Sypha closed their eyes, and started to speak:

"When Scholar and Hunter  
have made the army three  
they storm the mourning castle  
to set the devil free.

Hunt the rib and nail  
rest the eye and fang  
know the ring and heart  
and staunch the warlords reign."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are horses and how do you write about them? 
> 
> I promise this is going somewhere! 
> 
> The relationship and graphic content tags are going to relevant.
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me. <3


	4. The Road

"That's it?" Trevor said.

Sypha beamed at him. "I know. The language is cryptic. Mourning, for instance, does that mean time of day, or grief?

"Grief, I think," Adrian said, "Based on the phrasing. Although morning would be the best time for an assault."

"No, I mean, this is horseshit," Trevor said. He stood up and glared at Sypha. "That's two sentences of nonsense."

"Trevor, it's a prophecy. They don't spell these things out."

"Well tough shit," Trevor spat. Speakers around him scowled. "I thought you had- I dunno- something. I'm not going on a suicide mission for one damn word about a hunter."

He stormed away before Sypha could stop him.

The watch that night was quiet. It irked Trevor. He could use a stray demon or two to beat up. It'd help his nerves.

The second day, he sulked at the back of the line. He glared at the people who gave him friendly waves or tried to talk to him. After a while, they stopped. He appreciated that. He wanted to be alone.

He'd get as far as Arges with them. Then he'd split off on his own. What did he owe any of these people anyway?

The promise he'd made to the Elder hissed in the back of his brain. Trevor ignored it.

Besides, Arges was close to the old Belmont estate. Maybe Trevor could pick up some beer in town and drink at the graves of his family. That'd be- well, not nice exactly. But it might feel good, like airing a wound.

He tried not to think how Leon Belmont would scowl at him for shirking his heroic duty. Or whatever. He'd probably look like the Speakers had last night when Trevor stormed off.

Trevor looked around for something to distract him. He settled on Adrian, who looked ridiculously out of place squashed between crates and sacks on the back of the last wagon, with his face shaded and his legs dangling off the edge.

He didn't burn in the sunlight. That was clear. But he didn't seem fond of it either. Trevor remembered how he'd stayed in the shade of the alley when he'd argued with Sypha. He was sensitive to it, at least. Or maybe he was hiding in the wagon where no would stare at him. If that was the case, he'd obviously failed.

Trevor shrugged. Maybe he was just a prissy vampire noble who refused to blemish his skin with a tan. Trevor had met nobles like that, in a part of his life that seemed like a decadent, comfortable dream now. He could have been one of them. In fact, Trevor might have been, if he hadn't been raised from the cradle to fight evil, and fight dirty when he had to.

Trevor realized Adrian was staring back at him. He grimaced. Before he could avert his eyes, Adrian raised a hand and curled a single, long finger.

Trevor rolled his eyes. He dismounted his horse, who seemed so accustomed to following the tail ahead of her it hardly mattered what Trevor did. He was not walking over because Adrian had caught him staring and summoned him. He just wanted to stretch his legs.

"Are you so determined to break Sypha's spirit?" Adrian asked.

Trevor folded his arms. He didn't appreciate being literally talked down to by a vampire. "The war will get to them eventually."

"How kind of you, to make them preemptively miserable."

"Not my fault your prophecy is ass," Trevor said.

"Is it?" Adrian said.

He slid off the wagon and started walking beside Trevor. Trevor heard the rear guard hiss as Adrian slipped into the light.

"Or are you so determined to not be a hero," Adrian said, "That you'll tear down any evidence of it?"

"It just said hunter," Trevor snapped, "that could be any damn tracker or trapper in Wallachia."

"Or the Belmont who happened to stumble into my chambers."

Trevor snorted. "Blame the Elder for that one. He did everything to keep me around."

"You rescued his grandchild," Adrian said. 

"So?"

"You stood up to corrupt priests and organized a defense effort. And then you fought me, even though you expected to lose."

Trevor narrowed his eyes. "You've been talking to Sypha, haven't you?"

Adrian side-eyed Trevor and said dryly, "Yes. No one else talks to me, Belmont."

"Lucky them."

Adrian's lip twitched.

"Why are you fighting your duty?"

"Because," Trevor said, "before the church condemned us, I was the family fuck up. What did you call me- a runt running around with the family crest?"

Adrian sighed. "Don't take that to heart. I was irritable. You'd woken me up." He offered Trevor a sheepish smile.

Trevor shook his head. If that was Adrian's sense of humor, he didn't like it. He didn't like Adrian. Why was he talking to him?

Adrian was going to say more, but suddenly his head jerked up, like a dog whose caught a scent. "Smoke," he said.

Someone screamed from the front of the line.

"Trouble," Trevor agreed. He ran up the wagon line, his hand already unsheathing his short sword. 

And, no. It didn't occur to Trevor that he was doing exactly what a hero would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character development! Trevor insults my writing! 
> 
> For folks who love the games, I bet the "prophecy"s meaning is pretty obvious. Full disclosure, I have not played them-- just watched play throughs and analysis for SotN. But I love the idea that the villain of Castlevania is the castle itself.
> 
> Heh. Well, I have to write parts 1 and 2 first. Thanks for reading everyone!


	5. Slanic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! This is where that "graphic depictions of violence" warning starts to come up. Baby steps (for me, I mean. : P) Stay safe and thanks for reading!

What was left of Slanic was a few trailing columns of smoke. The beams of a dozen houses rose, black, from the ash. The place smelled like cooked pork. Trevor gagged and wondered if he'd have to swear off bacon.

The ramparts had held and the horde had taken advantage of that, adorning the charred wood with human heads and entrails.

Trevor shivered. If they had made better time, would the heads of the Codrii speakers be mounted with the rest of the grizzly adornments? Or could they have fought the horde off together? If they had gotten here faster, maybe this village would have survived.

Trevor wished, not for the first time, that he had something to drink. Maybe he shouldn't have been so rude to the villagers. Specifically to the brewer.

Ah well. They would have learned the truth about him eventually, even if he'd sucked up to them.

The hollow eyes priest from yesterday tapped Trevor's shoulder.

"Yeah?" Trevor said. He caught himself liking this man. He'd lived in Gresit his whole life, tailors son before becoming a priest. Trevor couldn't understand why he would have turned away from such a noble family occupation to join the clergy. But he hadn't pulled a knife on Trevor yet. In fact, he'd given him a flask of holy water for free. So, not bad for a priest.

"A prayer is called for, I think," he said.

"Okay."

"I was hoping you would lead it with me."

"Me?" Trevor said. He looked over his shoulder, checking there wasn't some other, non-heretical person standing behind him. He saw Adrian, a ways away and off to the side. Otherwise, the space behind him was empty.

"The people look to you, sir."

Trevor opened his mouth to explain to this priest all of the reasons he was utterly unfit to do this. But something funny happened. Maybe he'd inhaled too much smoke and gone mad.

"Okay," Trevor said, "But I don't remember any prayers."

"Just a few words at the end will do."

Trevor still felt his face go red as he spoke in front of a crowd, next to a priest, fifteen minutes later. They said amen after he'd stumbled over a call for hope and strength, or something. He ducked into the crowd after that, and ran into Sypha immediately. Sypha's eyes glittered.

"Do you Christian's usually swear when you pray?"

"First off, I'm not a Christian. Excommunicated," Trevor said. He waived his hand, "And, shit is hardly a swear word."

"Well, dear God help us kick the shit out of these demons is an-- interesting interpretation of scripture."

Trevor shrugged. "Wrath of God."

"It sounded about right to me."

Trevor turned his head. Adrian had appeared next to them.

"Could you please stop that?" Sypha frowned, "This is why everyone's scared of you."

"Doing what?" Adrian asked.

"Sneaking up on us."

"I was just walking," Adrian said.

Sypha sniffed. "Well, it's rude."

"Should I walk- louder?"

"Yes."

Trevor snorted. "Right. Cause people won't find him as scary if they hear him coming."

"It'd be a start," Sypha said.

Adrian tapped his chin. "It would be easier, if people weren't frightened."

"It will be easier," Trevor said, "once we've dropped these people off and it's just the three of us."

Trevor didn't have time to register what he was saying. Sypha laughed triumphantly and threw their arms around him.

Trevor froze.

"I knew it!" Sypha said. They squeezed Trevor's chest. "I knew you didn't mean it last night."

"Sypha?" Trevor said. They were squeezing him hard. Adrian had that superior half-grin again. People were staring.

"We'll do this together," Sypha said into his tunic.

"Sypha? You're starting to hurt me. And- I can't smell good."

"You do not!" Sypha said. They looked up at Trevor. "You are a smelly, stubborn, grumpy person. And we're going to save the world together." They squeezed him one last time before letting go.

"Sure," Trevor said. His face was red again. He knew it. He fucking felt blood throbbing at his cheeks and neck. He was uncomfortable. If Sypha knew- if any of them had any idea how shitty a Belmont he was?

Well, he had almost let it slip to Adrian already.

Trevor cleared his throat. "We should get moving."

They got the caravan rolling again.


	6. The Night

Trouble came on day three. It had been cold since then, brisk winter days that made sleeping outside miserable, but kept the roads relatively clear. The spring was coming though, and by noon on the third day, the sun was out and the pine woods around the road dripped with melting snow.

Suddenly, the old road was pockmarked with slushy, brown puddles. Sypha froze every one they could find, and still the caravan got slower.

It was on one of these frequent slowdowns that Adrian found Trevor.

"We have a problem, Belmont."

"No kidding," Trevor said, "Sypha's strained themselves to their limit. They can barely stand, let alone cast anything."

"It's not that," Adrian said, "Look."

He turned and pointed behind them, to the clear and sunny sky at the end of the wagon train The slanted v shapes of two black birds were the only things in the harsh blue air.

"Crows?"

Adrian shook his head. "That's what I thought too. But they've followed us since morning. And look at how them seem to float in the air instead of flying."

"So?"

"You should know this, Belmont. They're quasits."

Trevor squinted into the light. "The little bat demon things?"

"They aren't as vulnerable to the sun when they're transformed."

"They're following us? Why?"

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Should I change into a bat and go ask?"

Trevor opened his mouth. He processed what Adrian had said. He closed his mouth again, gulped, and finally said, "You can do that?"

"I don't think it would be a productive conversation," Adrian said.

"You can change into a bat?" Trevor said.

Adrian's lip twitched. "It's a vampire thing."

"No. No, it's not. That's a," he brought his voice very low, "that's a Dracula thing. That's scary, Adrian."

Adrian shrugged. "Really? I thought everyone could do it. Right then. I'll just go back to the wagon."

"Let me know if they get any closer."

Trevor rubbed his temples. People were already on edge seeing so much of Sypha's magic. Sypha had elemental powers; relatively simple, powerful stuff that common folk, like Trevor, could wrap their heads around. These people had seen ice structures and open flame before, felt cold winds blow past them. If just seeing those things conform to a mage's will sent people wide eyed and whispering, Trevor didn't want to imagine how they'd respond to the blood magic Adrian used. 

That night, he got to see their response anyway.

They set up camp like they had the past two nights, a broken circle of wagons with people inside. Pikemen stationed themselves at the edges, ready to spear anything that tried to fly into the circle. Trevor prowled through the ranks after dinner. He cursed the early winter nights and the troubles of the road. He offered words of reassurance to every person keeping watch.

"We're gonna be fine."

"It's just the wind, howling like that."

He stopped when he realized people were becoming more anxious after he talked to them. He was really bad at this. He settled for affirming nods.

Adrian found him at the edge of the circle. He hissed, "The quasits flew off when we made camp. I don't like our location, Belmont. Trees on all sides. We're too exposed."

"No shit," Trevor said, "But this was as far as we could push the horses. Too far, in fact. The stable master is going to have my head."

"They're going to attack tonight," Adrian said, "probably around midnight, when the dark is complete."

Trevor rubbed his hands together. "Well, we'll be there to meet them."

Adrian was right of course. Smug prick. They announced themselves with high pitched squalls, shadows that were almost invisible until they swooped close to the torches or flew under the moon.

Trevor flicked his whip up, but it hissed through empty air. They were too fast and well disguised, difficult to follow. He glared into the dark.

"C'mon you bat shit fuckers," Trevor shouted, "Get on my level."

Trevor swore when a scream cut through the air. Not a bat-like screech, but a lower pitched, human call that might have held a strangled word. Trevor wheeled around, already running. How had they slipped in already?

But the child who had screamed had not been grabbed. They stood on their bedroll and pointed up to the sky, their eyes wide.

Trevor followed the extended, trembling hand. Other people were pointing too. Someone to Trevor's right prayed breathlessly.

A black figure floated between the demons. It was human in shape, and seeing it hovering, outlined by the quarter moon, it felt like a fist had grabbed Trevor's insides. 

The figure drew its sword, a long glint of silver in the light. Trevor saw the gold at its cuffs and cascading off it's shoulders. It was floating up to meet the demons, not descending into the camp. Trevor remembered. He shook his head. It was Adrian, showing off and scaring the crap out of people.

"Take cover!" Trevor shouted.

People fled for the wagons. 

The demons converged on Adrian. Silver flashed. Trevor heard the crack of cartilage and bone. 

"Pikes up!"

A demon plummeted down into the circle of raised spears. One of its wings was missing, and it corkscrewed wildly before being impaled.

Above them, Adrian went for the wings, slashing through leathery membranes and cutting at the structural bones. Trevor left the pikemen to spear whatever fell into the circle. He focused on any demon falling, or deliberately diving, for the wagons. His whip cracked them into dust and ash in a small puff of flame.

The thaw had given them an advantage. The wagon canvases were soaked through, and refused to burn.

"Belmont!” came a call from above. “There's a big one!"

Trevor turned at Adrian's warning. He heard canvas rip. People tore themselves out of a wagon to Trevor's left and he ran past them. Wood splintered. A set of large red eyes peered at Trevor through the slashes in the canvas.

Trevor chucked a dagger, and heard a screech as the thing reeled away. He rolled over the wagon and into the dark. 

The sky overhead was clear. There was a red flash, and then Adrian appeared on the beasts other side.

It was a barghest, Trevor guessed. Although the Belmont bestiary had about a hundred names for ugly, hulking, vaguely canine demon, and he had never been a good study. The creature whipped its head around, considering Adrian and Trevor in turn. 

It raised its muzzle to the moon and howled. Smaller demons chittered in response.

Trevor raised his whip and slashed at the barghest's face. The howl was cut off. The beast shook itself and ran directly into the underbrush between Trevor and Adrian.

Trevor loosened up his shoulders. "Right. Feel like a hunt?"

Adrian grinned. It was a predatory expression that showed his fangs. "I'd be delighted."

They fought well together. Adrian had an absurd, flashy style that drew in attention, and it made it easy for Trevor to sneak in and do the dirty work. Where Trevor got careless, Adrian always seemed to catch the danger he was missing, and keep it back. They fought off the bat wing demons together, tracked the barghest down, and slayed it.

He might not like the vampire. But they were a good match in battle, and by the time they were returning from their hunt, he decided he could respect Adrian for that. Maybe even trust him. Maybe.

Trevor blinked as they cleared the treeline. The sky was lighter than he'd remembered. A wall of ice surrounded the wagons. Everything was quiet; no screams, no squalls of demons.

Trevor looked over at Adrian. "Something's wrong."

Adrian gulped. "I smell blood."

The first thing they found inside the circle of wagons was Sypha. The speaker was a crumpled heap of blue robes, with their head in their hands. 

"Shit," Trevor said. He looked past Sypha. Five human bodies were laid out in the center of the clearing. He didn't need to see the rended flesh, the faces torn and unrecognizable, to understand why silence had fallen over the whole caravan.

Sypha raised their head. "Where were you?" they said. Their face was red, puffy and strained, but dry. They stared up at Trevor. He knew that look, the scrunched brows and open mouth. Disappointment. He had failed them; failed Gresit and the speakers at large. 

Trevor slumped down next to Sypha.

"They attacked after we ran off, didn't they?"

Sypha nodded.

Trevor slammed his hands onto his face. He had been so eager to finally do something, to fight the fear that had settled in his gut like hunger, that he had forgotten his duty. His duty was to the people first. And now, five of them lay dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When in doubt, I steal monsters from D&D. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and especially for the comments and Kudos. You keep me going!


	7. The Day

"I killed them."

Trevor found Adrian outside the circle of wagons. He stood like a statue, staring at nothing. The newly risen sun shown directly onto his face.

"Adrian?"

"I killed them," Adrian said again.

Trevor cleared his throat.

"They were innocents in this and I- I served them up for demons to slaughter."

Trevor couldn't help it. He snorted.

"Belmont?!"

"Please," Trevor said, "I get that your doing a dramatic, grieving monologue. But, come on."

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"I was told to come find you. We've buried them. We're moving on."

"And you're okay with this?" Adrian asked, "You feel no grief?"

"Course I grieve," Trevor said, "We fucked up. It's just a little rich, coming from you."

Adrian turned around. "What do you mean?"

"You eat people."

"You mistake me for my father," Adrian said. His face was pink. Seeing color there was strange, until Trevor realized it was a burn. The skin on his cheeks and forehead were peeling.

"Yeah? And what did I mistake those vats behind your coffin for? Strawberry jam?"

"Animal blood," Adrian snapped.

"Really?"

"Yes. Do you have any idea how devastated my mother was, when I couldn't keep down food? To be weaned off milk and onto blood? They fought over it."

"O-okay."

"Animal blood was a compromise," Adrian said, "and then, when I was old enough to understand, it was my choice."

"So, what, you’re like a drunk trying to stick to water?"

Adrian grimaced. "I'm only half a vampire. I don't have bloodlust. I don't have thirst."

"Well, you could've mentioned that sooner."

"Had I not?" Adrian asked. "Wait, how long have you been wondering about my-- appetites?"

Trevor gritted his teeth. "Since you tried to fucking bite me."

"Oh," Adrian said. He chuckled. "It was an act, Belmont. Nothing more."

"Right," Trevor said, sounding less than convinced. "Now, are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

"And is your face going to heal, or?"

"What?" Adrian said. He dabbed at the burns, and they disappeared.

Magical healing. Trevor shook his head. Magical healing and no thirst. Apparently being dhampir had it's advantages. He headed back towards the caravan.

Sypha broke off from leading the train to meet them.

"That can't happen again," they said. 

"You're right," Adrian said. He gulped, "I'm sorry, Sypha."

Sypha looked at Trevor. Trevor nodded grimly. 

"We're supposed to be a team," Sypha said, "You two can't just run off on me."

"A team?" Adrian asked. There was an edge to his voice, slicing bitterness like a blade, "We don't even have a plan."

"Ummm, actually,"

Trevor trailed off when Adrian and Sypha both turned to him. He coughed, cleared his throat, and said, "We're headed to Arges. That's-- very close to the old Belmont estate. And-- I dunno. If we aren't sure where else to go, I think we should give it a visit."

He wished he hadn't said anything. Sypha gave him a sad, pitying smile, while Adrian bristled. "What do you hope to find there?" he asked.

"Okay. I'm not saying I believe this prophecy bullshit," Trevor said, "cause I don't. But the second part-- the heart and ring and, whatever."

"Rib, nail, heart, ring, eye and fang," Sypha listed off. 

"They sound like artifacts," Trevor said, "And if they are, well. We had a library, underneath the estate. It might still be intact. And it might have information about them."

"A library?" Sypha asked. Their eyes glittered.

Adrian folded his arms. "That's a lot of 'mights', Belmont."

"What?" Trevor said, "scared some Belmont ghosts will kick your ass?"

"I just think it's a very flimsy lead."

Trevor shrugged. "Well, if the alternative is 'wait in Arges for Dracula to waltz in'."

Sypha nodded, "It's a plan of sorts. Until we can come up with a better one."

"So you acknowledge that it's a bad plan," Adrian said.

"But we're going along with it anyway," Trevor said, "cause you don't have a better idea."

Adrian smirked. "I'll come up with something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are chapter titles and how do I do them? : P
> 
> Hey all! There is one more chapter for part one. I am excited for what comes next for the trio.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and as ever for kudos and comments!


	8. Arges

As evening fell on the fourth day, Trevor felt a new energy in the caravan. People held their heads higher. A child tried to tell him a joke. He overheard people talking about Arges, speculating not just about the city's fortifications, but about where they might find lodging, and even whether it had a half-way decent cobbler.

"They finally believe it," Sypha said. Their eyes sparkled. "We have less than a day to go. We're gonna make it!"

"Don't jinx it," Trevor hissed. 

Adrian slipped himself into the conversation, "Well, no quasits trailing us today."

"You're still helping keep watch," Trevor informed him.

"Yes," Sypha said, "And so am I. Trevor, why don't you take this night off and actually get some sleep?"

"I'm fine," Trevor yawned.

Sypha rolled their eyes.

Trevor decided to change the subject. "So, one problem. What if Arges doesn't let us in?"

"What do you mean?" Adrian asked.

"Well," Trevor said. He scratched the back of his head, suddenly uncomfortable. "Gresit wasn't exactly inviting, once the hordes hit. I had to crawl through the sewer pipe to get in."

Adrian shuddered. 

Sypha winced. "You think Arges would turn these people away?" 

"I don't know," Trevor said, "But, we're fucked if they do."

"Could we send someone ahead of us?" Adrian said. "A messenger? We can't be the only refugees who've reached Arges, if it's the last human city standing."

Trevor raised an eyebrow at Sypha. He didn't like when Adrian had good ideas. "What kind of fucking idiot would make that trip alone?"

Surprisingly, they found someone that evening. When Sypha explained to the speakers around the fire, Arn raised his hand to volunteer. 

A few minutes later, Trevor watched him saddle a horse. He was a good candidate, a charming talker and a skilled horseman. But he wasn't a warrior. The horde had been quiet, but Trevor watched Arn canter into the night and worried. Would he even make it to the city?

Maybe he shouldn't have been such an ass to the speaker. Trevor grumbled as he returned to the wagon circle. At this point, he was running out of people to be rude to. He glowered at Sypha and Adrian when he realized they'd set out a bed roll for him.

"Rest," Sypha said. 

Trevor toed the palette, as though he expected it to rip apart. "I-- uhh-- the ground is fine."

"The ground is wet," Adrian informed him.

Trevor glared at him. "You sleep in a coffin."

"Yes. A clean, water resistant coffin."

Trevor grumbled as he pulled off his shoes and got under the covers. "Just, yell if you need me."

"Goodnight Trevor," Sypha said.

Trevor flipped them off, rolled over, and fell into the nicest, most comfortable rest he'd had in a very long time.

He woke up, to the dark blue skies that indicated an early winters morning, to the thump of hoof beats on packed earth.

Arn returned to camp as haggard as his horse, and nearly as breathless. He barely bothered to halt the horse, just slowed to a walk before sliding off. Trevor watched him run to the Elder and the rest of the speakers.

Trevor rubbed the sleep from his eyes and went to hear the bad news. Good news never arrived before dawn.

Arn had the rest of the Codrii caravan around him. "They've had plenty of refugees. Apparently the church is taking them in. And they'll accept the people of Gresit. Just not us."

"No speakers allowed in," the Elder said. He sighed. "So we abandon the people of Gresit at the city gates?"

Sypha put a hand on their grandfather's shoulder. "Not abandon. Not if the city is as safe as the rumors say. They'll be safer there than on the road."

Arn nodded. "It seems very well defended. From the outside, at least. That's all I got to see."

"And we will move on," the Elder said, "away from here. Out of Wallachia entirely, even."

He looked up at his grandchild. "But, my angel, what will you do?"

Sypha grinned. "Oh, I'll sneak in. If Trevor can do it, it can't be that hard."

"I'm right here, you know."

Sypha cackled at him.

Trevor suddenly had a sense that he was intruding. The speakers started to say their goodbyes to Sypha, readying themselves to part in a few hours at Arges. They were encircling them. They had stories to tell Sypha. Sypha embraced their grandfather.

Trevor cleared his throat, trying to get a tightness out of his chest. It should have been jealousy, but it wasn't. He went to help get the caravan rolling. The villagers had already started the work. They were also anticipating the end of the journey.

Trevor went looking for Adrian. The sun was out before he had checked the whole caravan. Adrian wasn't there.

The rear guard seemed to sense Trevor's confusion. The call went up at the front of the train, but they stayed, waiting for Trevor to mount his horse.

Trevor was trying to remember when he'd seen Adrian last. He had a vague memory of Adrian and Sypha heading off before he'd fallen asleep. But that was just to keep watch. 

Had something happened to him?

"Go on ahead," Trevor said, encouraging the rear guard to catch up with the rest of the train. He peered into the woods.

"Trevor?" 

Trevor swore and turned. Sypha was right. Adrian did need to walk more loudly.

"Adrian. Where were you?"

Adrian pushed a branch out of his way and met Trevor on the road. His cloak was covered in pine needles, and dripping wet. He shook more water out of his hair.

"Nature walk?"

Adrian flicked the water off his fingers at Trevor. "Actually, Belmont, I was looking for the horde."

"How the hell do you look for the horde?" Trevor asked. He brushed the drops off of his face.

"The way you Belmonts look for a vampire's coffin," Adrian said, "the night creatures need places to hide for the day. Caves usually."

They caught up with the caravan quickly, and Trevor followed Adrian to the wagon. 

"And?" 

"Well, did you notice yesterday, how that barghest seemed to be following a particular trail?"

Trevor hadn't, but he nodded anyway.

"I got back to it. It leads to a cave-- a big one, over there," Adrian pointed behind them and to the east, where a lone, rocky hill stood out over the trees. 

Trevor considered. If they could catch the horde in the day, when they were vulnerable, maybe they could take them out, clear the area for good. They could make Arges that much safer.

But, no. The events of last night rested like stones in Trevor's gut. He would love to cut the horde off at the source. But they had one more days obligation to the people of Gresit and the speakers. 

"Damn. We'll have to come back here."

Adrian nodded.

By noon, they could see the walls of Arges in the distance. Trevor had to admit, the tall and stark grey stone looked impressive from a distance. 

Could it be done? Did he really believe that walls and good defenses could keep Dracula's armies out? The Belmont estate had those things, and all it took was a mob and a few well-spoken priests to reduce it to rubble. Surely Arges was something more, if it was keeping the hordes at bay.

"Alright, Trevor, how's this?"

Trevor looked down and blinked. Sypha looked strange in common clothes. They wore black trousers and a plain, loose fitting tunic. That, at least, was blue like their robes had been.

"Sypha. You look-- normal," Trevor said.

Sypha smiled. "Thanks. I hate it too."

They went to get Adrian's opinion, and Trevor followed them.

"Absolutely drab," Adrian informed them, "it's perfect."

Sypha rolled their eyes. "Alright, now we need to get you two disguised."

Trevor was jarred from his thoughts. He looked to Sypha. "Us?"

Sypha jabbed at the Belmont crest on his tunic. "Yes. You're wearing the crest of a demonized family, Trevor. Twice."

"And, Adrian? You dress like you're at a funeral."

Adrian and Trevor made eye contact. Adrian's lip twitched. "You're hilarious Sypha."

"I'm not joking," Sypha said, "you stubborn idiots are going to get us caught."

Trevor shrugged. "This is my best tunic. I'm not taking it off."

Sypha threw up their hands. "All right. But when we get turned away at the gates, it'll be your fault."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes part 1, so we can rush straight into part 2. Bwahahahaha! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, the kudos and comments and just the general love! This is my first time doing this ~posting~fiction~thing, and this has been really affirming for me! Much love to y'all! <3 Thanks for being such lovely internet strangers!


	9. The City Gates

The caravan split when the forest receded. Two measly looking wagons turned to the west. Sypha hugged their grandfather one more time. 

"When this is finished, I will have quite a story to tell," Sypha said. 

The Elder laughed. He finally let his grandchild go.

Sypha caught up with the end of the train. Trevor offered them his seat on the horse. He squeezed their hand as he helped them up.

"They're gonna be fine," Trevor said.

Sypha shook their head, "I wasn't worried-- until you said that."

Trevor sighed. "You know what? I'd better go check on Adrian."

On his way, Trevor spied the defenses on the city walls. A sparse guard, since it was daytime. But something on the walls glinted in the light. Trevor raised an eyebrow. There was a large ballista mounted at the parapet. He considered the damage that would do to a bat wing demon. He whistled. He spotted more of them, evenly spaced along the wall.

From ahead of him, Trevor heard a gasp, and a sharp, painful intake of breath. 

Adrian clutched at the stacks of crates he was wedged between. His eyes bulged. Trevor could hear his breathing.

"Something wrong?" Trevor asked. He caught up to the wagon. They were almost at the gates. He really didn't need Adrian to have a panic attack in front of the guards.

"Can you-" Adrian breathed, "Can you not- feel it?" He shuddered. 

"Uhhh, no."

Adrian forced himself back into the wagon, and curled his knees to his chin. "It's-- there's some-- kinda magic-- protecting the city."

"It doesn't like you," Trevor said. He watched Adrian suffer. It wasn't as satisfying as he'd expected.

"Just, keep quiet for a minute," Trevor said. The head of their wagon was at the gate. 

Adrian took in a deep, but absolutely silent, breath. 

Trevor looked around. There were guards posted on either side of the 20 foot entrance. They didn't seem to be paying much mind. Arges, apparently, got it's share of refugees. 

Trevor squinted into the shade behind one of the guards. There was a sigil there. Twin, winged serpents facing outwards, breathing fire and protecting a cross. It was marked in chalk at the archway gate. If Trevor hadn't been looking for it, hadn't been searching for signs of magic at the gates, he never would have seen it. The white sigil blended in almost perfectly with the stone.

Trevor stood frozen. The wagon rolled away from him. A couple of farm animals brushed past his leg. Someone tapped his shoulder.

"Trevor?" Sypha asked.

Trevor shook himself. He tore his eyes from the sigil and kept walking. Arges had the Belmont's symbol of divine protection, his family crest, drawn into its gate. He plucked at the emblem over his heart. 

Were there surviving Belmonts here? He'd been the only one; the only person who'd escaped before the mob, he thought. But if there were? That would explain something.

A tight knot wound itself around Trevor's gut. Having family again would be-- no. It was a dream. Trevor shook his head and remembered who he was. If there were other Belmont's here, he did not want them to see him. 

Trevor wandered into the city without seeing it. He heard his father's voice in the noise of the crowd; a voice he had tried not to hear for almost a year. The disappointed sigh as he gripped Trevor's shoulder, pulled him away. He turned Trevor around and stared into his face, searching it. "I thought you'd gotten past this."

And Trevor, red faced and ashamed and angry, had torn himself out of his father's hold and run. 

The church's damned mob hadn't swarmed for another two weeks. But that had been Trevor's last conversation with his father. That look of shame.

Someone was calling his name. Trevor turned around, suddenly afraid he was going to see his father running towards him.

It was just Sypha.

"I returned your horse," they said, "everyone's heading for the church. Should we?"

"Let's kindly avoid the church," Adrian said. He spoke in strange, clipped words. Trevor looked at him, and realized he was speaking through the tiniest opening of his lips. Other than that, he seemed fine. The magic that had overwhelmed him at the gates had faded. 

"Works for me," Sypha said. 

The caravan had already passed them. They were in a market square. Vendors were loading their wares into carts or making their last bargains. People passed the three of them. Trevor noticed eyes flicking to his crest. Many more caught on Adrian; his fine clothes and long hair and beautiful grey face. 

Trevor gritted his teeth. He suddenly felt very exposed. "Let's find an inn to stay at."

Sypha tilted their head at him. "Alright. Do you have any money?"

Trevor checked his pockets. "Uhhh, oh shit." The couple of coins he'd had left were trotting away in the saddlebags of the horse Sypha had returned. 

He looked back at Sypha. "What about you?"

Sypha shrugged. 

"You two are unbelievable," Adrian hissed. He produced a coin purse.and offered it to Sypha. 

It jingled as Sypha took it. They loosened the drawstring to look inside, and raised an eyebrow at Adrian. Adrian ducked his head behind his hair. He was embarrassed again.

Trevor winced at the clumping of boots behind them. The guard was being changed, and one of the newly relieved men eyed Adrian as he passed. He whispered something into his compatriot's ear.

Sypha noticed it too. They grimaced, and looked around the square. "I'm sure there's an inn somewhere." 

They pointed in the direction opposite where the guards were headed. Trevor and Adrian followed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, beginning part 2. I am so excited y'all! 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. If you've been tapping your toes wondering when the relationship and violence tags are going to be relevant-- they are coming! I'm gonna be adding a lot of tags in the next few days.


	10. Liniste Inn (Obligatory Trevor Gets a Bath Chapter)

Evening was fast approaching. The sun sank, casting long shadows onto the city streets. People closed their doors and shuttered their windows. These people knew to fear the dark. Even if the city walls had ballistas and magical defenses, there was still risk. 

Trevor looked over at Adrian. They needed to get him indoors before the sun went down. At least while he was in the light, he could pass himself off as a very pale human. 

"Oh, wow."

Trevor paused, and followed Sypha's impressed gaze. An imposing brick building took up most of the street. It was set into the ground. Except for a small door, it had no exits, not even windows.

Trevor blinked, trying to understand what had struck Sypha about a large, but otherwise unremarkable and honestly ugly building.

"It's a bunker," Sypha said, "They could hold half the city in here, if the walls and defenses gave."

Trevor considered saying something about how pointless it was. If the horde broke through the walls, no one would have time to run for a bunker. Nor did people think in such terms when they were panicked.

Taking in a breath to speak, Trevor caught a smell that made him forget everything. Beef. Somewhere very close by, someone was roasting it. Trevor's stomach clenched. He walked forward. Two doors past the bunker, there was a building that still had it's doors open, with just a curtain to keep out the chill. The smells wafted from behind the curtain.

Trevor looked up and read "Liniste Inn". He waived once for Sypha and Adrian before walking in. Sypha followed and paid for their rooms, and for meals. Trevor turned to them, sorely tempted to wrap Sypha in a hug. They looked at him and wrinkled their nose.

"Also, can we get a bath drawn?"

Ten minutes later, Trevor stood staring into an oversized bucket of steaming water.

"It's nicer when it's warm," Sypha told him, "And you've not having dinner until you're clean."

Trevor glared at them, "Can I at least have some privacy for this?"

Sypha shrugged, "Of course."

They stepped out. Trevor sighed and stripped off his shirt. He'd dunk his head into the water, get his hair wet, and then wait a few minutes before getting dinner.

He was kneeling beside the tub when the door opened again.

"Sypha, I was just," Trevor started, standing up and starting to undo his trousers as though he was preparing to bathe. He looked around and swore. Adrian stood in the doorway. 

"Fuck are you doing here?"

Adrian closed the door. He leaned against it, folded his arms and smirked. "Slipping away from the innkeeper before they stake me."

"Right. And you've barged in on my bath because?"

"Belmont, we both know you're not taking a bath unless someone forces you." 

"I'd like to see you fucking try," Trevor said, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, I'm not going to do anything," Adrian said. He held up both hands, as though showing he was unarmed. "I'll just stand here, denying you dinner, until you smell like yourself, and not a barn."

Trevor flipped him off. Adrian averted his eyes and said, "I believe you were in the process of disrobing?"

Trevor's stomach growled. He grimaced, stripped down, and dunked himself into the tub. 

"And please do use the soap," Adrian said, "My senses are stronger than yours-- you don't know what you've been putting me through."

Trevor's eye roll went completely unappreciated. Adrian was still looking away.

"So, you're dhampir, right?" Trevor said. He grabbed a bit of the soap and started to aggressively lather himself down.

"Yes. Would you like to say that louder, in case the innkeeper is listening from the other side of the door?"

Trevor dropped his voice to a whisper. "How does that work, exactly?"

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "I've been told that when a male vampire and a female human are--"

"Spare me," Trevor said, "I meant, you seem to just be a vampire who can stand the sun."

"Are you trying to ask me whether garlic and silver and all the other distasteful apotropaics effect me?"

"The holy wards at the gate did," Trevor said, "all I'm saying is, if we come down for dinner and there's garlic on the plates."

Adrian shrugged, "I'll be fine. The stuff reeks, but it won't hurt me."

"Alright. Holy water?"

"Burns like acid," Adrian said shortly. "Happy?"

Trevor sunk deeper into the tub, letting the soap rinse off of him. "And, silver?"

"Silver is-- complicated," Adrian said. "My father had a silver wedding band. I asked him about it, when I was old enough to understand. Silver binds us. Diminishes our power. Makes us more human, I suppose."

Trevor looked over. There was an odd roughness in Adrian's usually low and delicate voice. He stared at the wall. 

"I think it was significant to him, and to my mother. To be more human."

"Yeah," Trevor said. He cleared his throat, made uncomfortable by conversations about family and humanity and-- whatever else. "I'm, uhh, getting out now."

Adrian put a hand over his eyes, and pointed to a pile of clothes by the wall. "Please put on something new. We'll get your tunic washed tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcannon here is that Sypha was traveled well out of Wallachia and maybe been somewhere where bunkers were a thing? In the 15th century? *shrug*
> 
> Glad one of the universals of this fandom is Trevor getting bathed. Who am I to resist that?


	11. Captured (Well That Escalated Quickly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! Violence starts now. I will be adding tags as I go, and pleasepleaseplease let me know if there's anything I've missed that I need to flag. 
> 
> *Ahem* Restraints/ bondage

Trevor blamed the damn bath. Being suddenly warm and clean, in clothes that weren't stiff with sweat and dirt. The meal he'd eaten and the bed- dear god it was so soft he felt like he was drowning in it. These comforts lulled him into a sense of security. That was dangerous. He slept deeply.

The splintering smash of wood seeped into Trevor's dream. The images swirled into each other, the curling strands of Adrian's hair, soft in the dream, became the covers Trevor tried to rip off of himself, and the burgeoning weight of Trevor's shame was the pounding of heavy boots over floorboards. The door and windows of his room were covered before Trevor managed, still drunk on sleep, to stagger upright. He reached for his sword, on the bedside table, and two blades were put to his throat.

"Shit," Trevor said. He put up his hands.

He was still delirious, and the uniforms of the guardsmen in front of his bled into each other as they moved around him. Twelve men at least. His raised hands were grabbed and slammed together. He heard metal click around his wrists. 

"Right, bastards, what are you-"

A gag was stuffed into Trevor's mouth. 

Trevor saw blue flash across the light in the broken doorway. He hadn't heard Sypha open their door, or slip through the hallway. They stood in the frame, two fingers raised, a spell in their mind. 

Trevor held very still. He still had daggers at his throat.

"Let him go," Sypha said, "he has committed no crime."

Five guards wheeled towards them. Sypha slammed their arm forward and a gust of cold wind forced the armed men back. They drew their other hand up with a cry, and made a wall of ice, keeping the guards on the other side of the bed. Sypha splayed open their fingers and a ball of fire appeared in their open palm. 

"Stand down, speaker," the guard behind Trevor said. She bit the flat of her blade into Trevor's throat. A twitch of her hand, and she'd slice open an artery. An important one. Trevor resisted the impulse to gulp- to move in any way. "Or I flay the Belmont."

Sypha starred. The flame guttered in their hand.

Trevor managed to shake his head the tiniest bit. Fuck the prophecy and anything else- he was expendable, and Sypha could take these bastards.

Sypha looked at Trevor and curled their fist, dismissing the spell.

Armed men converged on Sypha. Sypha was brought to their knees and bound like Trevor. A dagger was placed at their throat. Sypha shivered.

"Where's the vampire?" the guard behind Trevor demanded.

Crap. Adrian was their way out of this. He was also gone. He had taken off as a bat before Trevor and Sypha went to bed. He'd said wanted to see Arges's defenses up close and keep watch on the horde. Privately, Trevor suspected he was going out to hunt.

"V-vampire?" Sypha said.

The woman holding the blade to Trevor nodded once. Sypha gasped when the guard behind them kicked them to the ground.

"Stick together and search the rooms," the captain-- because this person standing behind Trevor was clearly in charge-- ordered. She kept her blade on Trevor as guards upended the chest at the foot of Trevor's bed. His newly cleaned tunic fluttered out, and his whip rolled across the floor. They were both grabbed. 

Trevor inched his head backwards till he got a look at his captor. If not for the gag, his mouth would have fallen open.

She wore the same helm and armor as her lackeys. She was older, with crows feet set in around eyes that Trevor recognized immediately. It wasn't the color, but the shape of her gaze as she scanned the room, the sharp astuteness. It was a hunters questing gaze. A Belmont's look.

Or maybe Trevor couldn't accept that anyone except a Belmont had taken him down so easily. He didn't recognize her.

Sypha and Trevor were shoved out into the hallway, and then to Sypha's room, where the same search was conducted. The guards kept claustrophobically close together, white knuckles on their blades. Trevor chuckled into his gag. Two of them had drawn out stakes. 

The hairs on the back of Trevor's neck rose. He didn't dare turn his head to confirm what he thought he'd seen; a fine sheen of mist slipping in through Sypha's cracked window.

The captain, still standing with her blade at Trevors throat, called out a warning.

"It's him. Stick together!"

Guards pressed in, their blades raised. 

"Release them."

Adrian's voice was a hissing in the air that suddenly whipped through the room. 

"You interfere in matters you cannot understand."

Trevor rolled his eyes. Could Adrian sound any more like a vampire right now?

"Show yourself," the captain shouted. Her voice wavered slightly. "Show yourself or we kill them."

"As you wish," Adrian said. 

He appeared, in a red flash, at the end of Sypha's bed. He had his sword in one hand, but lowered and pointed off to the side. He tilted his head. 

"What do you want with us?"

"Answers," the captain said.

"Then let them go," Adrian said, "We can talk."

"Drop your weapon."

Adrian nodded. "Of course." He tossed his sword aside and it clattered across the floor. Could he hear the elevated heart rates and smell clammy sweat on these humans? Did that give Adrian confidence? Or did he understand that people were dangerous when they were scared, that their fear drove them to extremes? Fear filled pews and sharpened pitchforks. It made ordinary people into monsters. 

They feared him even as he tossed him weapon away.

"Alright," Adrian said, "let the speaker go."

Sypha was pushed forward from between the pointed swords. They stumbled with their arms chained. Adrian moved up to reach them, and as he did, Trevor heard the trap snap shut in the sound of leather pulling taut.

A whip, Trevor's whip, stretched out, catching Adrian in the chest. The captain didn't need to make her call. Her guards surged. Adrian staggered back, gasping. 

The dagger at Trevor's throat had gone slack. Trevor leaned into the flat of the blade, and then threw his head up and back, striking the captain's jaw. He wiggled himself loose as she regained her footing. 

Trevor fought against his restraints. They were well made, tight and sturdy around his wrists. He settled for kicking the captain in the stomach, and used the momentum to run backwards, towards Sypha and Adrian.

Adrian swatted guards away with his hands. He made for Sypha, when another crack from Trevor's stolen whip forced him back. Adrian turned to the guard wielding it and hissed. He vanished, and reappeared at the man's side in a red flash.

Another guard was waiting for him. He barged forward as Adrian made to disarm the first man. Trevor heard the click of chains, and Adrian's grunt of surprise.

For one moment, there was utter silence in the room. Sypha and Trevor both turned. Guards went still, holding their breath. Adrian considered his hands, out in front of him and covered by thick cuffs. 

"Really?" he said. He snorted, and tugged his wrists apart.

The chains held.

Adrian's brows knit together. He fought the restraints harder, using his shoulders. Nothing happened.

In the dim light from the open door to the hallway, Trevor saw it. The manacles gleamed as Adrian raised them to the light. He was trying, Trevor guessed, to understand how mere iron could hold him. Trevor didn't have to wonder. He knew. Silver lined restraints. Just as surely as he'd recognized his own family crest, the woman's face, and the tactics her forces employed.

Adrian shrugged. He reached out both hands, towards the sword that he had tossed away. 

Again, nothing happened. The sword was unresponsive steel to Adrian's summons. 

The whip flicked forward and struck Adrian's back. He fell forward. 

Trevor felt a now familiar dagger dig into the side of his neck. He looked over, and saw guards around him and Sypha. They were surrounding Adrian too, but none of them seemed to want to touch him. Then the guard who'd shackled his hands came forward again. He swung something down and over Adrian's face in one fluid, well-practiced motion. He snapped the thing into place before Adrian could raise his head.

Adrian bristled. He raised his head and glared. Apparently being muzzled was beneath his dignity. Metal covered his face from nose to jaw. Like the manacles, it gleamed silver. 

"Bring them in," the captain said. She removed her dagger from Trevor's neck after his legs were fettered.


	12. The Barracks (I Promised Suffering)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning- Torture, nudity

They threw Trevor and Sypha into a cell together after a cursory search. If Trevor had his boots on, he doubted they would have found the daggers he kept in them. But if he'd had his boots, he would have been prepared, and they wouldn't be here in the first place. 

"Here" was the long, low barracks in the north part of Arges. It wasn't a prison, but a practical building, intended to house supplies and city guards. There were just six cells, all built around a central room, kept behind a second, locked gate at the far edge of the compound.

"You needed disguises," Sypha said. They helped undo Trevor's gag. It was tricky with both of their hands chained.

"Well, we certainly will now," Trevor hissed, "after we've gotten out."

He scanned the room. There was a bucket, a scattering of straw in one corner, and a slit of a window set high into the wall. Trevor squinted through the window. He could see the sloping roofs of the city outlined by a sky that was slightly blue.

It was going to be day soon. They still hadn't brought in Adrian.

"Shit. What are they doing to him?" Trevor asked.

Sypha chewed their lip. "The woman said she wanted answers. They could be- questioning him?"

Trevor shivered. "Better him than us."

"Because of the magical healing," Trevor explained, holding up his chained hands, when Sypha glared at him.

Sypha shook their head, and then turned. The heavy set footfalls of the guards echoed up the hallway that connected to the cells. Four men stepped to the gate. Between them, they were carrying something gold and grey.

Trevor turned his head away. His face was suddenly hot. This was why they'd taken so long bringing in Adrian. They had stripped him; nothing left but the muzzle, the chains, and the open gouges from the whip. 

Adrian was carried into a cell opposite Trevor and Sypha. There was no window or straw in that cell, no features of note except for chains on both side walls and a few loops of leather hanging from the ceiling. The set up looked familiar to Trevor, in a way that itched in the corners of his brain. He couldn't place it.

"You'll thank us later, vampire," one of the guards said, "you really don't want your clothes for this."

Adrian snorted. The guards just chuckled. The four of them strung Adrian's arms out on the chains on the walls. They pulled the restraints tight enough to force Adrian into a kneeling position.

He was facing the back wall of the cell. Trevor could see the strained muscles in Adrian's shoulders, an open wound on the small of his back, his bare ass and legs. It was more than Trevor had been prepared to see, but he'd turned back to watch anyway. 

"You're making a mistake," Sypha said, "he is not your enemy."

Trevor winced. He'd managed to forget that Sypha was here. If they looked over and saw his red face-- well, maybe torture wouldn't be so bad. 

But Sypha was a better person than Trevor. Certainly, they were a better hero. They stared in horror as the guards chained Adrian, and then called out in confusion when one of them placed a clear flask in the harness of leather loops hanging from the ceiling. The flask was angled towards Adrian's back.

"What are you doing to him?" Sypha asked.

The guards didn't answer. They stepped out of the cell, closed the door, and watched.

It was a clever design. The bit of cloth jammed into the flask steadily absorbed water, which was pulled down by gravity until a single drop formed and fell. 

Adrian hissed as the drop struck his back. It rolled down, leaving a bright red trail of inflamed skin. 

The flask contained holy water, enough that it could drip for hours before it had to be replaced. Trevor knew this, because he remembered when his uncle had proposed this means of interrogation. A young Trevor had thought it ridiculous when his grandfather had dismissed the idea as inhuman. Now he thought grandpa Belmont had made a pretty good point.

"Enjoying the show?" someone asked dryly.

Trevor ripped his head away and turned to the gate. The guards scrambled to attention. Their captain leaned against the bars. She had called to them, not to Trevor. Of course she hadn't called to Trevor. No one had noticed his red face or the way he had starred.

"Let's see if we can get the speaker talking."

Sypha flinched. They stood up and whispered to Trevor, "I'll explain everything. I'll get this all sorted out."

Trevor gulped and nodded.

Yes, Sypha was a better hero than Trevor. They walked to the gate and watched, coldly, as the guards opened it for them. They faced whatever was coming to them with a kind of grace, and with the belief that they could overcome it. They were led out the gate and up the hallway, out of sight.

Trevor closed his eyes. No, it was more than that. Sypha believed in the goodness of people. They believed that this was a mistake and that answers were what these people were seeking. Trevor didn't. He couldn't believe that. He heard Adrian hiss in pain again. If the people of Arges wanted anything, it was revenge. Trevor understood revenge.

Ten minutes later, Sypha's scream echoed down the hallway to them. Trevor gritted his teeth. He heard Adrian strain at his restraints, and then a clink of chains and a whimper as another drop hit his back.

Trevor couldn't get his hands over his ears with the manacles around him wrists. Sypha screamed again and again, in a rising pitch. Between that, and Adrian's increasingly pathetic whimpers, Trevor considered stuffing straw into his ears. Instead, he curled in, and tried to press his knees on either side of his head to block the sounds.

He had to think. He had to get both of them out of this. But Trevor didn't have magic. He wasn't smart, or even clever. And strength meant very little when they were surrounded by trained and well armed guards.

No, their way out of this was Sypha- it had to be. If they had enough time, they could melt off their restraints and the locks on the cells. If they still had hands and fingers when the guards were done with them.

Sypha's next scream broke in half, splitting into a sob as it hit Trevor's ears. Trevor bit his lip. He was powerless in this.

By the time Sypha's screaming stopped, there was a little pool of early morning light in the center of the cell, shining in from the small window. Adrian had quieted to a ragged gasp every few minutes. Trevor hoped that meant that most of the holy water had drained out of the flask. He didn't dare look at Adrian again to check.

Trevor had to give Sypha credit. They were able to walk back. They stumbled through the gate, and Trevor met them at the cell door.

"Sypha?" 

Their normally sharp eyes were misted over with pain. 

Trevor glared at the guard behind them. "The fuck did you do to them?"

The guard smiled, showing all of his teeth. He unlocked the door and gave Sypha a little push between the shoulders.

Sypha gasped and fell forward, into the cell. Trevor caught them at the waist.

"Your turn, Belmont."

Trevor ignored the guard. He walked Sypha to the straw in the back corner of the cell. 

"I said your turn."

Trevor helped Sypha slump down into the corner. Then he turned and used both hands to flip the guard off. 

"You don't want to fight this," the guard said, "the Captain wants to talk to you. She thought there were no Belmonts left."

Trevor sighed. He walked to the door. "Me fucking too."

The guard let him through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was scary to post. Thank you all for the comments and kudos! You people sustain me!


	13. Some Answers (Oh Shit I Made You Guys Wait 8 Chapters for This Didn't I?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning- homophobia
> 
> Be safe everyone!

"Trevor Belmont."

Trevor was shoved into a chair, and his manacles were hooked to the table. The captain sat at the other side. Trevor didn't need to look up to see her smile, he heard smug confidence in her voice as she spoke his name.

"How the family line has fallen."

Trevor's hands curled into fists in front of him. He wasn't ready for the next things this woman was going to say. He'd been running from them for almost a year now, ever since he'd fled home. He decided he had to cut her off.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Hmmm. I would have been your mother's cousin-- but that barely matters now. Just a bitter widow, really," the woman said, "My husband, the headman, was killed in the first raid. It's fallen to me to protect this city."

"By torturing travelers?"

The woman raised three fingers, and counted off, "A speaker witch, a violent heretic and a vampire. You're hardly innocents."

"The Belmont excommunication was bullshit and you know it," Trevor said through gritted teeth.

"I thought so. But, do you know what the official church records state?"

Trevor looked down. He didn't, but he felt what saw coming like the inevitable descent of night.

"Heresy, dark magic, sedition and the stockpiling of forbidden items-- thanks for those, by the way."

"But the charges against you, against Trevor Belmont, well, there was one extra item."

Blood pounded in Trevor's ears. His face was red again, and his knuckles were white.

"Sodomy."

The word curled out of her mouth and spread out over the table. It had no meaning to Trevor anymore. It was just a cudgel, something to beat him with. The word made him into something worse than a heretic or a drunk. It took the truest and deepest held of his desires and told him they were filthy things.

"You know, the records stated that you were burned at the stake with the rest of them. But you weren't. You ran away."

"The church would have killed me," Trevor said. His voice was gravely and strained.

"Oh, you didn't run from them. You fled weeks earlier-- ran away from your own damn kinsmen. Remind me, who did they find you in bed with?"

"Shut up."

"And, which one are you fucking now? Not the speaker, surely."

"Shut. Up."

"The vampire then?" 

"Just shut up," Trevor said, "Just shut up and torture me already."

"Oh, you wish."

The captain stood up and stretched. "I don't need to torture you, Belmont. Not in any bodily way. You can sit in your cell and stew in your shame."

"The- the church would've come for us anyway," Trevor said.

"Sure. But those rumors about their youngest son were the last straw, weren't they?"

"Fuck you," Trevor said, "I thought I was here to be questioned."

"Yes, of course," the woman waived her hand. "What the hell are you doing in my city?"

"We're here to stop Dracula," Trevor hissed, "There's this prophecy, and--"

A guard slammed Trevor's face into the table. 

"Anton," the captain said, "We don't need to hurt him."

Trevor slowly raised his head. His head stung, and the captains face looked achingly familiar with his vision blurred.

"Some advice, Belmont?" the captain said, "Rehearse more believable lies."

Something dripped onto Trevor's clenched hands. He looked down. A second splatter of blood hit his knuckle. His nose was bleeding.

The captain stood up. She headed to the door. "He can go back, for now."

It wasn't until Trevor was unchained and lifted back up that he saw what was in the room behind him. There was a rack, with shackles and a crank set up. He gulped. That was what they had done to Sypha. And Trevor had gotten off with a bloody nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some small rewrites to Trevor's cannon backstory. : P The Belmont condemnation happened recently. Trevor hasn't been aimlessly wandering the countryside since he was 14. More like a year (rise in religious persecution got the Belmont's and Lisa?). He's in his mid twenties. 
> 
> There's lots of fun still to be had, and I'm excited for where things are going. But we are not at the end of the suffering yet. Not nearly. Thanks for reading!


	14. Agony (Some people switch POV character????? To Cope????)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. I mean, there's nothing stopping me from switching perspectives, right? I think? We'll be back to Trevor and his regularly scheduled swears tomorrow. 
> 
> Oh, violence and torture warnings again.

Belmont returned in better condition than Sypha. Better than Adrian had expected, considering he was perpetually insolent. Adrian could barely smell blood on him; a few drops, at most. Adrian couldn't be entirely sure. The wretched piece of metal they'd gotten over his nose confused his senses. He heard the Belmont's heart rate, his rough breathing, but his footsteps were even.

He was alright then? Sypha and Belmont were both alive. Sypha's breathing had settled down a few minutes ago. Maybe they were sleeping off whatever had been done to them? Adrian hoped so. Humans needed sleep; but only in strange, erratic snatches, rarely more than hours. They needed food, but they couldn't gorge themselves with it. These had always seemed like contradictions to Adrian. It made humans seem like impossibly delicate scales to balance. 

Adrian could endure. He could survive much more and on much less. 

A drop of water splashed onto Adrian's aching, itching back. It sizzled as it traveled down. Adrian pressed his forehead further into the back wall of the cell. He tried to focus on the feeling of the rough stone. It was cold and comforting when his back and legs were burning. He flexed his jaw, still wondering if he could squirm the muzzle off himself. All that accomplished was biting the thick leather strap in the back tighter into his ears.

Footsteps stopped in front of his cell. Adrian chided himself. How rude, to ignore guests. He turned his head.

He despised the mixture of amusement and pity in the guards' faces. Adrian hadn't thought he could dislike anything as much as wide-eyed fear, but this was new, and it stung as him like the water that dripped.

"Captain's ready to talk now."

Adrian nodded. That was agreeable to him. His arms were intermittently spasming and tingling. He wasn't sure if his magic could restore blood deprived nerves. And he was already very low on blood.

Besides, they wouldn't deliver him to the captain, a woman and a person of authority, without giving him something to wear. Adrian hoped.

They loosed Adrian's hands. He had just enough control to keep them from touching his water slick sides. He really didn't need to burn himself anymore. A last, malignant drop of water gouged into his back.

"Get up."

Adrian smirked into the gag. He let out a breath and let a familiar feeling of lightness overcome him. The guards hissed when his knees floated off of the insufferable cobblestone floor. He wouldn't be able to do this for very long, not on so little blood. But in Adrian's defense, did they really think him able to walk?

A guard chained Adrian's hands together and pulled him out of the cell by his wrists. It had to be his wrists.

They brought him to the same room Sypha and Belmont had been questioned in. Adrian could smell that; Sypha's sweat and pain like sandalwood in the air, and Trevor's overwhelming shame lingering, harsh like burnt hair. Adrian wondered at it. Why shame?

There were two chairs in the room, and Adrian was dragged to the one that still smelled like Trevor. He winced. He was not in a condition where sitting would be comfortable. 

"Actually, could I stand?"

Adrian's voice was muffled, but he suspected he'd still gotten coherent words through. The guards didn't respond. He was shoved into the chair. His wrists were hooked to the table by the baffling manacles. His legs were bound to the feet of the chair.

At least, by leaning forward into the table, Adrian could minimize his back's contact with the chair, and cover his least modest parts. Apparently they were not going to clothe him. The captain walked into the room.

Adrian need not raise his head. He could smell her. The other guards smelled like sweat and steel and fear. She had some strange, added undertone. It was stronger than lavender, but lay in the air in a similar way. Grief, Adrian decided. She smelled like grief.

The captain laughed when she saw him. She sat in the opposite chair. "Hurts, huh?"

Adrian nodded. He wasn't going to argue that.

"Immortality always sounds nice. But imagine what we could do to you, vampire. The pain we could put you through?"

Adrian gulped. He was not going to discuss whether he was technically a vampire with this woman. Any mention of his parentage invited the possibility that she might guess who he was; whose son he was. He could see two alternatives if they discovered he was 'Alucard'. He would either be history's most useless hostage, or executed.

"Why did you sneak into Arges?"

"Supplies," Adrian said.

The captain sighed. She stood up and walked around the table. She stood behind Adrian's chair. She sunk her nails into the spot on Adrian's back that had already been whipped and burned.

Adrian screamed into the muzzle.

"F-for an assault-- on Dracula's castle," Adrian hissed.

The captain sunk her nails in deeper. Adrian felt the tender flesh rip in her hands. She withdrew, bringing blood and skin with her.

Adrian lay on his hands, gasping. The heavy breathes stretched his burned skin, but he didn't know how else to deal with the pain. He had almost no reserves of blood left, and what he did have was dripping out of his back. He wouldn't be able to keep healing for much longer.

"A different question then. Where does your damned horde go in the day?"

Adrian raised his head an inch. He played her words back, making sure his pain-addled brain had heard correctly. 

It was a good and fair question, if she believed he was controlling a part of Dracula's armies. And it was a question he could answer. Adrian tried to think, to pause and give himself a moment to consider. This was leverage, one tiny advantage that he had. He mustn't put it to waste.

The captain cleaned her hand off with an old rag. Behind Adrian, one of the guards shifted. Adrian heard him unwinding something.

"Don't keep us waiting," the captain said.

Belmont's whip suddenly cracked, a couple of inches from Adrian's ear. Adrian could feel the prayer that had been put on it. Like the holy water, and sunlight and everything else, it shot searing heat through him. 

Adrian raised a hand. "I-if I tell you this, you must do something for me."

"You will tell me what you know if you want a shred of skin left on your back."

"I will-" Adrian said. He was holding up both hands now, straining the restraints. "B-but the humans- the speaker and the Belmont. They are suffering. They need food and water. Blankets-- I think. The speaker needs to be healed." He hoped he wasn't forgetting any of the essential human needs.

There was a long enough silence that Adrian cautiously raised his head. The captain scratched her chin.

"Alright," she said, "It will be provided. After you tell me where the horde is."

Adrian took a long, shallow breath. "Do you have a map?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story. I have a crap sense of smell. What does sandalwood smell like? *shrug*


	15. Small Reliefs (This Section is Gonna be Longer than I Thought)

They brought Adrian back in. He floated behind the guard holding his chains. Between how pale he was, and the way he was curled in, with his back hunched and his knees bent, he looked like a ghost. Trevor winced. There was a chunk missing out of Adrian's back, just above his tailbone. It sluggishly dripped blood as Adrian floated past them. That had to hurt.

"He's gotten the idea you bastards," Trevor said. His voice was rougher than normal. The bleeding had stopped by now, but he still wasn't confident in breathing through his nose. 

They strung Adrian back up anyway. This time, they kept him facing forward. One of the guards replaced the flask above him. 

A guard sneered at Trevor as he passed. "Concerned for the demon?"

Trevor made a rude gesture at him. Vampires weren't demons. They were undead. There were very concrete and important differences which Trevor had never bothered to remember. But one thing was for sure; vampires had human bodies, with brains and nerves that felt similar levels of pain. And Adrian, who was at least as human as the average vampire, was in a lot of pain right now.

Trevor looked back at Sypha. They were asleep. Trevor could see their breath in the cold air. The cell was freezing. But that was what Sypha needed right now. Cold was the only thing that would help their swollen and horribly bruised shoulders. 

Satisfied that he wasn't going to wake Sypha up, Trevor steeled himself and looked directly at Adrian. It wasn't a pretty picture. 

Well, it was. He was fucking beautiful, and Trevor's eyes traced the long, puffy pink scar across his chest. He was just also clearly miserable. Another drop must have fallen, because Adrian writhed and the chains rattled.

Trevor cleared his throat. He was determined not to look lower than Adrian's chest. He could leave the man that bit of dignity and privacy, for whatever it was worth. "Adrian?"

A set of unsteady gold eyes met Trevor's own. 

"We're gonna get out of this," Trevor said, "Soon as Sypha can move their shoulders again. Just-- don't die, alright?"

"Sypha's. Okay?" 

"They're gonna be fine," Trevor said. God, he was bad at reassurances. Having your shoulders repeatedly dislocated wasn't fatal. But it was extremely painful, and he hoped Sypha wasn't going into shock. It could also limit their range of arm movement permanently. Trevor wasn't sure if that could affect Sypha's casting. He hoped not.

"And-" 

Adrian spoke in painfully slow, carefully articulated rasps. His word got swallowed up in a whimper. Another drop. He closed his eyes and took a handful of shallow breaths before trying again.

"And. You?"

Trevor snorted. It hurt. "I'm fucking fine, Adrian. Barely bruised."

They both fell silent when a call went up from the connecting hallway. Trevor heard boots clomping, and the captain's voice as she shouted orders. Mercifully, the footsteps faded. They were heading the other way.

"They're. Leaving," Adrian said, "They. Believed. Me."

Trevor leaned back, trying to find a comfortable way to rest against the stone wall. He pressed himself a little closer to the iron bars of the cell. "Believed you?"

"Told. Them. Where. Horde. Is."

Trevor considered this. "Hope the demons kill those bastards."

Adrian raised an eyebrow. It was a very familiar look.

"Okay. Maybe not kill. Maybe just give 'em a hellish, painful fight."

Trevor looked out the window. He sighed. "These people should be our allies."

A drop must have caught Adrian in the open wound on his back. Trevor heard him fight the restraints hard enough that his shoulders popped. 

"Don't you do that too," Trevor said. He looked over.

Adrian's head had fallen. If he was human enough to fall unconscious, it would be merciful. But he didn't seem able.

"Can I-- help?" Trevor asked.

Adrian nodded. "Keep. Talking."

"Alright," Trevor said, "Uhh- do you wanna hear about the stupid shit I've done drunk?"

There was a very long pause. Trevor thought he heard another call, this time the low, booming proclamation of a horn, resounding distantly from the other side of the barracks. The faint stomp of boots answered.

"Yes," Adrian finally said.

"Right. So, I once challenged a werewolf to a wrestling match."

 

Trevor tried not to think about how their best chance to escape was slipping away. There were still people in the barracks; Trevor sometimes heard footsteps. But the majority were gone, and no guards were posted at the gate. 

But Trevor couldn't get his hands out of the manacles, even when he dislocated his thumbs. Adrian and Sypha, meanwhile, were not doing well.

Trevor told Adrian stories until his voice was hoarse. He kept asking if he was annoying Adrian. Adrian kept shaking his head. He talked about the mostly drunk misadventures of his past year. After that, it was harder to find things to share. Too much of his Belmont life was dominated by killing members of Adrian's species. Or Trevor's handful of tristes with other men. He wasn't ready to share either.

Sypha would have been better at this. They were a speaker. They had a long honed understanding of how to tell a story, what a plot was, how to make an audience laugh at the funny parts and gasp at the twists. Trevor had gotten Adrian to laugh once, and it had sounded really painful.

Sypha, however, stayed sleeping. They didn't stir until well after Trevor's voice had given out. When they did, it was because footsteps echoed up the hallway again. 

"You alright?" Trevor said. His voice was a thin weeze. 

"Yes," Sypha said. They shifted, and the tiny movement of their arms made them flinch.

"Hey. No reason to move."

"Fine," Sypha said. They narrowed their eyes. "But you need to rest too. And, what happened to your voice?"

Trevor waived the question away. Footsteps were getting closer.

Three guards moved to the gate. One of them undid the lock. The captain came up behind them and followed her men in. The door to Trevor and Sypha's cell was pushed open, just enough for a bundle, wrapped in a coarse looking cloth, to be thrown in.

The captain didn't even look in their direction though. She went straight for Adrian's cell.

"Your horde is dead, vampire."

Trevor raised an eyebrow. They'd actually managed it? He looked to the weapons the guards were holding. One of them still dripped with rusty demon blood.

"It isn't his horde," Sypha said, "He's been nothing but cooperative. Let him down."

Trevor tried to add something, croaked instead, and settled for simply nodding. 

The captain shrugged. "That wasn't the deal."

She leaned into the bars of Adrian's cell. "Of course, if you have anything else to share."

Adrian took in a low, rattling breath. He shook his head.

"Maybe a night of pain will help you think of something."

The flask of holy water was replaced. The captain and her guards left with a last slam of the gate.

Trevor eyed the bundle that had been tossed into their cell. It wasn't moving, which was usually a good sign. Trevor pushed himself off the wall and plopped down beside it. He unwound the cloth. He found a loaf of bread, a flask, and a second, equally coarse looking blanket inside.

"You idiot," Sypha said.

Trevor looked up. For once, they weren't looking at him. They glared over at Adrian. 

"You could have gotten yourself out of a lot of pain. We're fine."

Adrian raised his head. "You. Need. Water."

Trevor shrugged. The man had a point. He picked up the flask and tried to unscrew it with numb fingers. 

Sypha snorted. They pushed themselves upright, only pausing for a moment to wince. They walked up to the bars. 

"Adrian. You have to be careful with yourself."

Trevor got the lid off the flask. He took a tiny swig, and then stood up.

"Sypha, here," he said. They couldn't move their arms without pain, so Trevor carefully gave them a drink of water. 

"And, Adrian? Thanks."

He and Sypha shared half the bread. each wrapped up in blankets that felt luxuriously warm after so much numb cold. Trevor walked back to the straw covered corner. Sypha would keep Adrian company through the night. Trevor leaned back. Really, he'd slept on worse ground before. He reached his hands up and felt his face. It stung still, and he was sure he had a lovely, purple and green bruise around his nose. But that was all.

He was exhausted. But not too tired that he couldn't hear the captain's taunts in his mind as he tried to sleep. "Sodomy. Which one are you fucking now? The vampire then?"

And then, far more damming in Trevor's ears then any of that, his father's voice. "I thought you'd gotten past this." Like Trevor simply wasn't trying hard enough to be into women. 

Well, he hadn't gotten past it. Not since he'd fallen down a variety of holes and found a devastatingly beautiful half-vampire floating out of his coffin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally two bridge chapters. But this section is already really long. So, *shrug*. 
> 
> Oh sweet givers of comments and kudos! Getting feedback has been amazing! Thank you all for reading~!


	16. Failure (I'm Going Somewhere With This, I Promise!)

Trevor woke up to a vague rumbling under his feet. Faint grey light filtered in from the small window. It was morning-- and still early. But something hung in the air; a current of energy that precedes a storm.

Sypha sat, still stiff armed, at the edge of the cell. Trevor walked forward and remembered at the last possible moment not to tap their shoulder. Instead, he said "Morning."

Sypha nodded. They very slowly offered Trevor the last fourth of the loaf of bread. Their eyes were on Adrian.

Adrian slumped into his restraints. His head lolled down, and his hair had fallen in a tangled mess over his face. 

"He hasn't moved in hours," Sypha said.

"Shit," Trevor said, "is he breathing?"

"Yes." Sypha tried to point, inhaled sharply at the pain, and settled for describing it. "His chest is moving, just very slowly."

Trevor nodded. He could see it.

"And, something odd is going on outside."

"Odd?" Trevor asked. He deliberately turned his gaze from Adrian's chest. 

"It sounds-- almost like a storm."

Whatever it was, the sound grew in intensity. The sky stayed clear, but the rumbling persisted, and the vague noises had escalated to a roar by the time the sun was in the sky.

The barracks stayed quiet. Unusually so, actually. No guards came to visit. Trevor heard sounds, but nothing near them. He ground his teeth. He and Sypha called out to Adrian multiple times. He wasn't responding. 

By noon, Trevor had resorted to screaming down the hallway, trying to get the attention of a passing guard. Finally, he heard footsteps. 

"Hey!" Trevor croaked. He was losing his voice again. "We need help."

The guard didn't even turn his head. He raced past the gate and to the end of the hall. A door was opened, and the roar Trevor and Sypha had heard before suddenly surged up the hall, washing past them like floodwater. The sound dimmed as the door closed again.

"Maybe he didn't hear you?" Sypha said.

After a minute, the door at the end of the adjoining hallway slammed. With the door open, the roar became louder again. The tone was different this time, a force that resounded off the walls and reverberating, refracting individual voices, words and demands into an indecipherable cry.

"Is that-- people out there?" Sypha asked

"Shit," Trevor said.

The door was slammed closed again. 

"Captain!" the guard called out.

"Yes?" the captain answered. Her boots clomped on the cobblestones. After the racket, everything seemed too close, the ominous sounds encroaching and threatening.

A mob, Trevor thought. There was a mob in front of the barracks. 

"Half the town is out there. I can't make them go away," the guard said.

"What do they want?"

"It was after the mission yesterday- against the horde. Word got around."

"What. Do they want?"

"The vampire."

The captain chuckled. "Then they can have him."

Trevor looked down at his hands. They were shaking. 

This is what had broken him before. It was easy to blame the church for his family's deaths, but that simply wasn't true. The church fanned the flames of a fearful mob. It had been individual people, people who the Belmont family had safeguarded from an underworld of darkness for generations, that had dragged them out to a pyre. 

The people of Gresit had seen Adrian protecting them. But that didn't matter. That never mattered. When there was enough fear and hate and pain, people would find anyone they could blame for their suffering. 

"Get the platform ready," the captain said, "Anton, Moldeanu, with me."

The gate into the prison complex creaked open.

Trevor looked around. The guards came in and sealed the gate behind them. 

"You can't do this," Trevor said. His voice was a breathless wheeze. Not convincing.

He was ignored. The guards moved to Adrian's cell.

Adrian was not doing well. He was hard to look at in this state. He hadn't responded to any of this, hadn't so much as raised his head. If he were human, Trevor would have reckoned him unconscious. But when a guard got around to loose his hands, Trevor was his shoulders tense; a tiny twinge in response.

Trevor raised an eyebrow. If Adrian had any power or strength left to him, now was the time to find it. Trevor didn't need to look back at Sypha. He felt the heat and heard the faint spluttering of newly formed fire. 

And what could Trevor do? Well, what he did best.

"You bastards," Trevor said. He dragged himself upright. "You have no idea what you're doing."

Come on Sypha, he thought, come on. Come on.

Adrian's other hand was freed with a rattle and a splash.

"Motherfuckers," Trevor growled, "You're dooming all of us. You sadistic sons of--"

"Shut him up, Anton."

One of the guards rounded on Trevor. He cracked his knuckles. Trevor trailed off. Either Sypha and Adrian were going to manage something, or Trevor was going to have his face smashed in. Again. A second guard turned to watch.

Energy crackled in the corner of their cell. Maybe Sypha could cast, even with their arms hampered?

Trevor raised himself all the way up by leaning against the wall. He stared down the guard and forced his bruised face into a grin.

"Come and get me, you prick."

From the other side of the room, chains suddenly hissed together. Trevor saw it. Adrian twisted around, rising, ready to wield the chains on his wrists themselves. Behind his matted hair, his face was absolutely expressionless. The muzzle also helped. 

Trevor staggered off the wall. He was barely injured, dammit. And he could do some damaged with the thick cuffs at his wrists. If he got the chance.

Adrian took a step forward. And it all went wrong. He gasped and his face twisted. Trevor saw why. His legs- Jesus. The fucking holy water had pooled around them. Where his back had been raw pink, his legs were red and shriveled like smoked meat.

Adrian collapsed.

Trevor ducked his head. He made to back away from the guard, but the man was faster. He got a hand around Trevor's throat. He threw Trevor forward. Trevor's face collided with the metal bars. The hand around Trevor's neck opened, and Trevor jolted backwards.

"Better," the guard sneered. He spat at Trevor.

Their attempt was over before it began. Adrian was sprawled on the floor, gasping.

"Can't stand?" The captain asked. She didn't seem to notice his attempt. Or maybe she didn't care. She bent over him and grabbed a fistful of his hair. She dragged his face into view.

"Did you hear them screaming for you? For revenge?"

Adrian looked up at her. His eyes were wide, but still clouded. Tarnished. He had heard. He knew what it meant.

Well, of course he did. In the abstract, if not the fine details of the thing. The church had put his mother to the stake, like they'd put Trevor's whole fucking family.

This was going to be it, Trevor realized. Their journey from Gresit, their half-baked plan, the prophecy. It was all going up in smoke.

"Please," Adrian rasped. Trevor strained to hear, but the rest of the words got lost in his muzzle.

The captain chuckled again. She let go of Adrian's hair and his head fell back down.

"Alright," she said. She called out to one of the guards. "Get him something to wear."

A few minutes later, Adrian was dragged out to meet his maker with a rag wrapped around his hips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Umm. I'M NOT KILLING OFF ADRIAN I PROMISE!
> 
> And I gave him clothes again. He's gonna be fine. I'm sure he's gonna be fine. : P


	17. Revenge (Adrian's perspective again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning- humiliation, mutilation, public flagellation, dental (yes, you read that right, dental.)

Adrian was familiar with the theory of a mob. An aggregate of humans was dangerous. Their emotions ran together into a torrent and their rage became one. How many vampires had been ripped from their coffins in the day by a screaming throng of villagers? His father had told Adrian those stories. 

He was unprepared for the sensory overload of the experience. Maybe that was why vampires were vulnerable to mobs. The screams washed over him; expletives and cruel recommendations. The smell of angry humans made him gag into the muzzle. It stunned him.

Adrian kept his head down. If he looked up, he wouldn't see them. He would see another mob, the raging faces painted blood red by flames. He'd smell oil, pitch and fire. He'd hear her screaming. The thing he faced now was just the last in a long line of failures, and the foremost of the lot was his failure to save her. Lisa. That was where all of this had started.

"Pathetic," the captain said.

Adrian realized the redness in his vision was not from the memory. Liquid pooled at the edges of his eyes. He still had blood left? He blinked, trying to take the tears back. He couldn't afford to waste blood.

There was a platform ahead of him, with a wooden frame above it. It could be used for hanging, Adrian thought. But he didn't see a rope. They carried him onto the stage. The crowd screamed, and Adrian was grateful there was a wrought iron fence between him and their curled fists. Adrian didn't want to make out individual words hurled at him. He got the idea.

He didn't want to look and see faces that he recognized from the road.

The guards strung him up by the same chains as before, this time dragging him onto his toes from the wooden frame instead of splaying him out. 

Adrian's arms weren't even numb anymore. Any vague, tingling sensation was long gone. He was senseless to his shoulders, and his shoulders were on fire.

The captain grabbed him by the hair again. He would never be able to untangle it at this rate. He had more immediate concerns, but it still infuriated him. She jerked his head up, into view. People screamed, and then the crowd hushed.

He must be a sight with the matted hair and the muzzle, the blood dripping from his eyes, the long pink scar running from the left of his collarbone down to his right hip. Underneath that, his heart was beating too fast, dizzyingly. All these pieces of him were exposed and made vulnerable.

Were they going to stake him? That- that would be the end, right? Neither half of him could survive that. Why would the whole?

"Take a good look, vampire," the captain said. She stood behind him, holding his head up. But she was speaking loudly, putting on a show for the crowd. "We've all lost someone to your damned hordes."

A thick, scratchy cloth was pressed over Adrian's eyes and tied in place.

"Now," she said, "We take something from you."

One of the guards was also behind him. They moved down from the blindfold and loosened the buckle of the muzzle.

Adrian held absolutely still as the muzzle fell off of him. The captain let go of his hair and stepped back. The crowd held its breath. Mostly naked and completely blind, Adrian felt truly vulnerable. He had always had layers of protection; his manners and veneer, his magic, his skill with a sword, his strength and the endurance of his body. All of that had been ground away from him. He felt human, because he associated being human with a perpetual fear of death. Or maybe he was prometheus, and an eagle was about to swoop in and tear out his heart?

A cold wind struck Adrian and he staggered. The chains on his wrists kept him upright. Otherwise, he would have fallen. But the cold on his back was a gift, a little mercy.

"Show us your fangs," the captain said.

Adrian gulped and clenched his jaw closed.

"What is it? Would you have any hesitance, any sense of pity or sympathy if the places were reversed? No. You would bite."

It was useless to argue. Adrian's voice was a dry hiss that would be lost in the wind. But he tried anyway. "I would never-"

A fissure of pain cracked across Adrian's back. He screamed.

The crowd jeered in response.

"That's it," the captain said, "Again."

Another strike. And a third.

The Belmont's fucking whip. It sheared the burned skin off Adrian's back. He should have cut that whip to pieces when he had the chance.

The crowd laughed. This was a show to them. The horde had been defeated. This was their happy ending and their justice done.

Adrian had his mouth open wide. He couldn't really scream, not really, but he could gasp and reel and try to process the pain. He felt strangely brittle, and every time the whip struck he expected to simply snap in half. He was so utterly emptied of blood. There was nothing left in him, so the pain reverberated, clattering around his bones. 

He lost track of the world around him. It was all dark and screams, sweat and rage and the last drops of his own, rusty blood. Guards moved around him, and the crowd cheered, but Adrian understood none of it.

Suddenly, a wedge of metal was jammed into Adrian's open mouth.

Adrian stumbled, confused. He tried to push the metal out with his tongue and jaw, but it was caught behind his fangs.

They grabbed his hair. The motion was becoming familiar. They pulled his head up, into view.

There were no words this time, no insults or accusations. Not even the crack of the whip. Instead, something metal crimped around Adrian's elongated, left canine. He wasn't sure how he registered the tiny sensation, next to the pain in his back, shoulders and feet. But he felt it like another whip blow.

No. 

He should scream it; should insist or plead or beg. But his throat was dry. His words were useless. The wedge of steel kept his mouth open. A hand gripped his hair to keep him from ripping his head away. In a flash like a lightning strike, he understood what they were going to take from him. The fact settled like iron in his stomach, like he had somehow swallowed the metal wedge.

They took his fang in a sharp yank down.

He fought them for the second. He thrashed at the restraints and twisted his head, ripping out hair as he went. This seemed to please the crowd. People screamed encouragement to the guards.

It came to nothing, except that when they finally took his second fang, he was broken and spent. The cell and the dripping water didn't seem so bad anymore. Suffering in private was a luxury.

They tore the metal wedge out of his mouth. They let go of his hair. Adrian's head dropped and blood dripped out. Drip, drip red onto the grey stone. His hands abruptly came loose. He fell and knew nothing. Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for reading. 
> 
> I'm almost done hurting Adrian. Very, very close.


	18. Salvage (How The Family Line Has Fallen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning- graphic depictions of injuries, self-harm, blood drinking,

"Belmont."

Trevor looked up. One guard. No captain. No Adrian. He and Sypha had been listening desperately. The mob had screamed and roared, and then petered out. That had been a while ago. Too long.

"On your feet."

Trevor leaned back. He had learned to sleep anywhere in his odd year of drunk wandering, and the straw in the cell was decent. He put his arms behind his head-- or, tried to. Fucking manacles.

The guard shook the cell bars. "Up."

"Nah," Trevor said.

"If you want to save the vampire, get up."

"He's alive?" Sypha said.

Trevor glared at them. First off, vampires were not alive; although, Adrian might be an exception. Dhampir weren't exactly well studied. And, second, this was a trick. It was obviously a trick.

Sypha looked back at him. Something about their eyes reminded Trevor that there was always a chance and he had nothing to lose. It was the blue in them, Trevor suspected. Blue wasn't soft. It was the color of ice and frozen skys. It couldn't be gentle and insistent. But Sypha's eyes were.

"Fine," Trevor said. He staggered up and to the door.

The guard let him out. Trevor looked back to Sypha. They nodded at him, and then jerked their head at the gate. They'd be fine. Help Adrian.

"Fucking christ," Trevor said when he was pushed through the door and out into the light. He blinked, adjusting his eyes and trying to process.

He was led out into a kind of covered stage. It was likely designed for executions. But that hadn't happened here. Adrian was crumpled in front of a platform that was slick with blood. His blood, at a guess. More dripped from his back and pooled around his face. He looked like absolute crap, with his hair matted and stained, his skin bruised purple where it wasn't raw and red. But Trevor saw his chest rise and fall. He was alive. Or still undead. Or whatever.

The captain stepped over. She unchained Trevor's hands. She pointed at Adrian.

"Pick him up."

Trevor stared at her. "What did you do to him?"

"What your whip was designed for," she said. Trevor saw it now, dripping, at a guards hip. His fingers itched. He looked over, not at Adrian but past him. The stage was gated off. Could he take on four well armed warriors with just his whip? Get to Sypha somehow and fight through how many more people with an unconscious Adrian in tow?

No. He couldn't.

"Suns moving fast," the captain said, "Better get to him before it does."

Trevor sidestepped the bloody platform and knelt next to Adrian.

"You, uhh, okay?"

Stupid question. Adrian didn't respond.

The sun was moving quickly. It was almost evening. Adrian was at the edge of the dwindling shade. He could obviously handle sunlight, when he wasn't beaten to shit anyway. Trevor wasn't interested in making him suffer anymore. He'd lost his taste for it. But how was he going to pick him up when most of him was injured?

At last, Trevor got both hands under Adrian's mostly covered rear and lifted him so he leaned into Trevor's chest. It was awkward, and Adrian was gangly, but he was also very light. Made sense. The man could fucking float.

The sun reached them just as Trevor got Adrian up. Trevor stepped back, but not before the light had touched them both. He turned around.

Two of the guards were sneering. They pointed at where Trevor was holding Adrian. Trevor was used to that kind of mockery. He didn't care. 

The captain however, was staring at Adrian, inspecting where she had seen the sun touch him. She had noticed. Trevor adjusted his grip. He wasn't sure he'd ever hated another un-ordained human this much. Of course she'd fucking noticed.

"Back to our lovely rooms then?" Trevor said.

He was escorted back to the cells and shoved into the one where they'd tortured Adrian. 

Sypha waited for the gate to close and footsteps to fade before they whispered across the room.

"How is he?"

"Beaten to shit," Trevor said, "but not dead."

He set Adrian in the corner farthest from the puddle of holy water. Trevor sighed. He brushed the smear of blood off Adrian's lips and eyes.

"Okay," Trevor said. He looked directly up, to the brick ceiling. "Uhh, great Belmont ancestors? Leon? Whoever? Could you please, uhhh, I mean, if you are watching me-- Well, first off, hope you realize this has been a real shit show. Thanks for the fucking help. And,"

Trevor took a deep breath. "Could you please look away for the next two minutes or so?"

"Trevor?" Sypha asked. "What are you-?"

Trevor looked over. "That goes for you too, Sypha. Just, uhh, gimme a minute."

"O-okay."

Trevor rolled up his sleeve. Left arm. He used his right hand to ease Adrian's mouth open.

"Alright, Adrian," Trevor hissed, "You must never- and I mean never, tell anyone that I did this."

He put his arm under Adrian's nose. He waited. Adrian didn't respond.

"Please don't make this difficult," Trevor said. He pressed his forearm into Adrian's open mouth. Still nothing.

"Sypha, ancestors, please keep not looking," Trevor called over his shoulder. He looked back at Adrian.

"This isn't a good time to be shy," he said. He pushed his forearm into Adrian's mouth. "Just bite me already. Gently, if you could."

Adrian's teeth grazed Trevor's arm. But something was wrong. None of them cut. Trevor pressed his skin into them for good measure. 

"Oh," Trevor said aloud. Almost sympathetically. He withdrew his arm and looked into Adrian's mouth.

"What's wrong?" Sypha asked.

"Nothing," Trevor said, "Don't look."

He remembered the blood pooled around Adrian's face when he'd found him, and the smug sneers of the guards. They hadn't killed Adrian. No. But there were vampires who would say that what they had done to him was worse. Because vampires were melodramatic pricks.

Trevor leaned back. He scanned the cell. His eye caught on the exposed edge of the door latch. It wasn't sharp exactly, but at least it wasn't rusty. He walked to the door.

"Trevor?" Sypha asked.

Trevor glared at them. "You're not looking, remember?"

Sypha rolled their eyes, and then closed them.

Trevor raised his arm and brought it down, hard, on the thin metal edge. He muffled a wince and checked his arm. He'd given himself a small gash and a bruise. He held his arm up so it wouldn't bleed yet.

"Still not looking," Belmont yelled at the ceiling.

He sat down and pressed his forearm to Adrian's lips.

Adrian's lips trembled as they grazed Trevor's arm. Blood had already started to pool in the cut, and Trevor pressed the red of it to Adrian's grey lips. Adrian's eyes flickered. Trevor gritted his teeth. He did not want this to be a tender moment, but he knew enough about vampires to know what he was doing. Adrian licked at the cut, and Trevor felt gooseflesh form on his arm. It wasn't just from the sting of the contact with his broken skin.

"Please just suck," Trevor hissed.

Adrian lifted a hand and gripped Trevor's arm. He did as he was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the turning point in this fic. I would never call this a slow burn, but here we are. Chapter 18. Things are going to change. I hope you're as excited as I am.


	19. Player 4 has joined the fight

"Trevor, can I fucking look now?"

Trevor raised an eyebrow. Swearing? He was a bad influence on Sypha.

"Yeah," he said. He rolled his sleeve over the drained cut on his forearm. He was thirsty and a little light headed. But that was probably the dehydration. Adrian hadn't taken much.

Trevor looked at the puddle of holy water in the middle of the cell. How desperate would he have to be to drink it? More desperate than he was now.

"What happened?" Sypha said.

"They took his fangs."

"Oh," Sypha said, like that wasn't nearly as bad as they'd expected.

Trevor grunted. He leaned back and wondered if he could pretend to be asleep before Sypha asked the questions he didn't want to answer. Maybe he could also pretend to be asleep when Adrian came round, and then every time Adrian ever tried to talk to him so that he would never have to admit to anyone what he'd just done.

He never got the chance to pretend. A tremor shook Trevor upright again.

"What the-?"

He looked down. A ripple of water formed in the puddle at his feet. 

"Earthquake?" Sypha asked.

"Maybe," Trevor said, "Can you get to the window?"

A second, stronger shake came, and the first ripple of water was eclipsed. From the corner, Adrian whimpered.

A third shake made the stone overhead groan ominously. Trevor was reminded of Gresit. Suddenly, he considered how lucky they'd been. The rocks had always fallen under them, not over them. What were they going to do now if the ceiling gave?

He braced himself, and Adrian, against the back wall, waiting for the fourth tremor.

It didn't come. He heard Sypha sigh in relief. He inched away from the wall.

Then the ground shrieked under them.

Trevor stumbled backward and put his hands over his ears. The sounds was in him, rumbling, grinding down his spine and shoulders. It threatened to crush him to dust. Bits of the ceiling fell in around him. Trevor didn't care. This was some breaking of the seventh seal shit. He heard the screeching on metal and stone colliding, snapping, breaking. He was knocked back to the wall. It had to stop. He couldn't bare it, wouldn't survive the tumult of sound and shaking.

The world itself was breaking in half. For one, wild moment, Trevor wondered if this was the entire Belmont family, a thousand ghosts descending upon him personally, breaking him with the force of their fury, shaking the earth, crashing stone and bending metal. He was a disgrace, and this last act had finally earned their utter condemnation.

It stopped. There was silence. Trevor lowered his hands from his ears. Sypha clambered over to the tiny window.

New sounds reached them. Explosions and screams and shrieks, higher pitched than a human could manage.

"No."

Trevor looked around. Adrian pushed himself up into a sitting position. He repeated himself, just breathing the word like a personal prayer. "No."

Sypha got to the window and gasped.

Trevor gritted his teeth. He was smelling things now, ash and brimstone. 

"What is it?"

"Dracula's castle," Sypha said, "it's here."

They turned, gulped down their fear, and set to work. They summoned a flame in their hands, not even bothering to disguise the sound of the energy.

Trevor looked up at the ceiling. A few bricks had come loose. There was a hole about the size of his head. He stared up through it and saw the sky.

Trevor could graze the ceiling if he stood on his toes. He jumped, hooked his hand into the hole, and the brick he'd grabbed came loose.

Around them, Trevor heard running. Soldiers boots clomping hard over the floor, and weapons unsheathed and armor donned with a steel clink. This city- this fuck rats gutter of a city- did have its defenses. Of course it did. Dracula had arrived because they'd killed the horde that had laid siege here.

Or, he had come to the last known location of his son.

Trevor looked over at Adrian. He still looked like shit. The whip marks on his back had healed over into deep, pink gouges, and his legs looked like jerky- just, slightly fresher jerky than they had before. Clearly, he had some feeling in his hands because he was using his fingers to check inside his mouth. His face was blank. He had his eyes closed.

"Adrian?" Trevor asked. He jumped and pulled another brick from the ceiling.

Adrian didn't answer.

"Adrian?" Trevor tried again, "you there?"

Adrian tore the hand out of his mouth and looked over. His eyes snapped open. He suddenly looked frantic.

"Trevor? I-"

Trevor didn't want to hear what he was about to say. He cut Adrian off and said, briskly, "Can you walk?"

"What?"

"When I," Trevor said, leaping up and dislodging another brick from emphasis, "bust us out of here. Can you walk?"

Adrian stared at him. His eyes were focused again, gold and sharp and glittering in the dark. Trevor had been wrong. They weren't unpleasant to look at. They were the sweetest, amber drops of fine beer. 

Trevor dropped the brick he'd been holding onto his own foot.

Adrian ducked his head and nodded.

"Can I help?" Adrian asked. He used the wall to get himself upright.

"No," Trevor said, "Actually, yeah. Keep watch for guards."

Adrian minced to the edge of the cell.

"Adrian," Sypha called, "You okay?"

They didn't raise their head from the manacles they were melting, so they missed Adrian's incredulous stare.

"Okay might be, uhhh, strong word for it," Trevor said. He inspected the hole he'd made. It might be long enough for a person to fit through. He needed to widen it. "But, he'll survive. If, you know, any of us do."

Trevor could see a strip of sky. The moon battled with cinder-filled smoke, and bat winged demons flew dark brown on the black backdrop. The screams and explosions were getting louder. The horde must be moving fast.

Adrian gasped.

"What is it?" Trevor hissed.

"Run," Adrian said. He turned around and pointed to the hole Trevor had made. "You have to run. Now."

"Why-" But as Trevor asked, he saw the answer. Over Adrian's shoulder, the hallway leading out was being lit by an eerie, neon blue glow.

Trevor looked at Adrian, and then across the room to Sypha, who was so feverishly focused on melting off their manacles that they hadn't noticed the new danger.

A low voice echoed through the hallway.

"What's this?" it said, "I smell a half breed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious brownie points to whoever can guess what baddie is coming next chapter! 
> 
> Also, I spent about three days debating whether Adrian is a half-breed or a half-blood. But, let's face it. His blood isn't his own right now. : P


	20. Living Through It Was Just a Luxury

Trevor looked up at the hole he'd torn into the ceiling. It wasn't wide enough for him to fit through. And even if the prophecy was bullshit, even if he was an awful Belmont, even if everything had gone to absolute crap, and it had, he wasn't leaving Adrian and Sypha. He would stick it out and fight an unwinnable battle. Like fighting the damned church to save the speakers, or fighting Adrian who he'd thought was Dracula.

Trevor looked down. At least his hands and legs were free. He picked one of the bricks up off the floor.

Claws scrapped over the cobblestones. A hulking monster padded up to the cell gates. Its eyes-- all six of them-- cast blue light into the cells as it scanned them. It sniffed the air.

It chuckled. "Is this how the humans have repaid your efforts, Alucard?"

It wrapped it's long talons over the bars of the gate with surprising finesse. 

Trevor watched Adrian. His eyes were wide- panicked. His grip on the cell bars was white. Based on the shaking of his legs, it was also how he was keeping himself upright.

Metal screeched as the demon ripped the gate open. It didn't spare Trevor a glance, and he wasn't sure it had even noticed Sypha. It chuckled again as it got closer to Adrian. The sound was like an old bellows being forced open. 

"Didn't dear Lisa's death teach you anything?" the demon said, "Humans will only ever reward your kindness with pain."

It scrapped its claws on the cell bars. 

"Go back to hell," Adrian said.

The demon laughed. It reached the lock on the door and snapped it off. The door creaked open and a large hand reached in.

Adrian tried to step back, and fell over instead.

Trevor winced. This wasn't going well. He searched for any kind of vulnerability on this demon. Every inch of it was overstuffed muscles and bristling spines. Punching it would do more damage to his hand.

The demon dragged Adrian out of the cell by his legs.

"Don't worry, little Alucard," the demon said, "Dracula is indisposed. I will put you out of your misery right here."

"No--"

Whatever Adrian was going to say was interrupted. The demon got two claws into Adrian's mouth. It eased Adrian's jaw open. Then it cackled.

"Oh, this is delicious. The vampire boy-- with no teeth."

Adrian got both hands around the demon's arm. He pushed, straining against its weight and strength. He couldn't shift its hand, anymore than he could get himself free from how the demon had pinned him. He was weak, couldn't break the demon's hold.

"Hey you awful fuck," Trevor said. He chucked a brick. It bounced off the demons skull.

The demon lifted its head. Trevor threw the other brick he was holding. It struck the demon's eye. It sizzled. The demon recoiled, pressing the pads of its hands over its face. Adrian rolled out from under it and looked up at Trevor.

Trevor nodded. He dipped another brick into the pool of holy water. "I told you, very clearly, not to die."

Adrian smirked.

The demon snarled, ripping its hands from its face. It glared at Trevor. One of its eyes was closed and visibly smoking. Great. Only five to go, and then they'd have a chance at beating this thing.

The demon charged at Trevor. Adrian grabbed hold of one of its legs, and was dragged forward with it. The demon reached into the cell for Trevor, and Trevor struck its snout with another soaked brick. 

A massive, clawed hand snatched up Trevor's arm. The demon tossed him out of the cell. Trevor slammed into the floor of the central room. The back of Trevor's head smashed into the stone. The world around him blurred for a moment, like it was on the other side of a veil of water. Trevor took a deep breath and forced himself to surface.

"If anyone's got any magic," Trevor said, staggering upright, "Now'd be a great fucking time."

Adrian sighed. He brought his hands together, rubbing his palms. 

The demon wiped blood from its nose and rounded on Trevor again. Trevor rolled out of the way as it stormed at him. 

Adrian threw both hands at the demon, and a ball of flame flew out from his palms. He gasped. The ball struck the demons side, leaving a couple of scorch marks and filling the room with the smell of signed fur.

"Anything that isn't fire?" Trevor said. They weren't doing damage to the demon, they were just irritating it.

Behind him, Trevor just registered the sound of chains clinking. 

"Cute," the demon hissed. It rounded on Adrian, who was considerably less mobile, and staring at his hands like he didn't expect them to be there. The demon knocked Adrian back to the ground and lunged.

A cry came up from behind Trevor. Inches before his claws dug into Adrian's back, the demon was suddenly pinned by long spears of ice. It squirmed, reaching for Adrian. Adrian stumbled out of the way.

"Filthy traitor!" the demon spat. It swiped its claws at the air where Adrian had been a second before. 

Sypha called out again.

"Sypha-- wait," Trevor said. 

But they had already summoned a hail of ice shards over the demon's head. They released the spell, and the ice flew down, deadly sharp and piercing the demon's thick skin. It screeched as its inner flame was ripped open and released in a blast.

Trevor flinched, bracing for an impact he was completely exposed to. The sound of it came, but no fire or bits of demon struck him.

Trevor opened his eyes. A pair of gold pupils met his own. Adrian was suddenly in front of him. He had teleported across the room to take the blow.

"You idiot," Trevor said.

Adrian collapsed into his arms.

Sypha called again. Their cell door shot open. They stormed out. 

"Fucking explosions," Trevor said. He dusted rubble off of Adrian's back. 

"You can thank me later," Sypha said. They headed for the ripped open gate, a tiny ball of fire between the pointer and pinky fingers of one hand. The shackles of the half-melted manacles were still stuck around their wrists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited! *claps hands together* Thanks for the reads and the comments and the kudos-- this is just so much fun that I can't seem to stop!
> 
> Oh, a logistic note. Obviously, this thing is gonna be longer than 24 chapters. I have about five more for this section, and then we move to part three. Part three is slower writing for me. I've even had to *gasp* research things? So I may be switching to a slower updating schedule sometime soon.


	21. Egress

"So, are you, okay?" Trevor asked.

"It hurts everytime I try to cast something," Sypha snapped, "and its irritating."

"Oh," Trevor said. He would put up both hands in supplication, but he was carrying Adrian. 

Adrian was definitely conscious this time. He just couldn't walk, and hadn't pushed away when Trevor had picked him up. 

"What about you?" Trevor whispered to Adrian. "You didn't tell me you could make fireballs."

"Hellfire," Adrian breathed. He leaned into Trevor, resting his chin on Trevor's shoulder. Trevor had to admit, he would have been a lot less comfortable having Adrian's face so close to him if he still had his teeth. The knowledge settled like stones in Trevor's stomach. "And-- I didn't know I could."

"Any idea where they put our stuff?" Sypha asked.

Adrian turned his head. He lifted one hand, and Trevor felt his body tense in his hold. A blade stabbed through a door ahead of them. 

"There," Adrian said. He rested his head back on Trevor's shoulder. 

Sypha strode up to the door and looked inside. Trevor followed. It was a storage room, piled with sacks and boxes. One of the sacks had been ripped open. 

"Here, Sypha," Trevor said. He set Adrian down in the corner. 

He dug into the sack Adrian's sword had torn open. He found Sypha's robes and tossed them back to them. He found his own tunic, his boots, his swords and daggers and sheaths. Under that, he found Adrian's scabbard, pants, shirt, overcoat and shoes. The shirt was ripped to ribbons.

Trevor got to the bottom of the sack, tipped it over and shook it for good measure. No. His whip was not there. 

Trevor ground his teeth. His whip was probably at a captain’s hip right now. He settled for arming up. He turned. Adrian had gotten his sword out of the door, and Sypha had changed back into their speakers robes. Dracula's castle was here. There was no sense in disguises anymore. Trevor considered changing into his Belmont tunic. He decided he didn't need the family seal to close to his heart right now. The plain shirt he'd picked up at the inn was fine. It wasn't even that dirty.

Trevor handed Adrian his clothes.

"What did you do to your shirt?" he asked, as Adrian tried to figure out which of the numerous holes was supposed to fit his head. 

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I just let those guards strip me?"

Trevor shrugged. He supposed he wouldn't have either.

Adrian tossed the shirt away with a disgusted snort, and settled for tugging on his pants and coat. 

"That's better," Sypha said, shaking out the folds of their cloak. 

Adrian nodded. "Agreed."

Trevor offered Adrian his hand. "Let's get out of here."

Adrian took the hand and let Trevor pick him up. He was still very light, easy to drape over Trevor's shoulder even equipped. Trevor hooked one hand under Adrian's legs and told himself he was just doing this because Adrian couldn't walk and Sypha couldn't carrying anything.

Trevor drew his short sword with his free hand, and led the way back into the hall. 

"I don't hear anyone coming," Adrian said into Trevor's ear. 

Trevor nodded, but slunk through the dark hall anyway. He tried not to look at the bodies of guards the blue fanged demon had killed as it had broken into the barracks. After a couple of turns and one deserted dead end, he found the double doors they'd been brought through. 

Trevor shouldered the door open, expecting to smell the clean, cold air he associated with freedom. Instead, smoke and blood assaulted him. Trevor gagged. He scanned the streets ahead of him for demons. There was nothing he could see.

Then Trevor's eyes were drawn up. He shivered. Dracula's castle loomed over the city. Its impossible, floating wings were like arms outstretched. The spires atop its towers scrapped into the smoke thickened sky. It still seemed to be rising into the air, splitting the city in half. But its windows were dark, and from this distance, Trevor couldn't see any movement. 

Trevor gulped. He was not ready to face this. They weren't ready. He started down the road. If he remembered correctly, there was a gate closer to them than the entrance the wagons had taken, past the inn where they had stayed. They were in sight of the city walls when Trevor heard a familiar chittering.

Trevor squeezed Adrian tightly. He suddenly realized why they weren't encountering demons on the streets. A mass of brown wings and sharp claws spread out in front of them. The horde prowled around the bunker Sypha had been so impressed by their first day at Arges. 

The people were in there. And once the haggard guards at the entrance failed, it would be over for all of them.

Trevor shrugged. He kept walking.

"Trevor," Sypha said.

"Oh, don't fucking say it," Trevor said.

"We can't leave these people."

"These people tortured you," Trevor said, "And they will again if we stay."

Sypha pointed to where the spires of Dracula's castle stood, somehow a deeper darkness against the night sky, at the cities center. "Our goal is here."

"We can't," Trevor said, "Not like this. We-we'll come back when we're ready."

"So we leave the people of Arges-- and the people of Gresit-- and all the other refugees here-- to die?"

"They deserve it," Trevor spat. He adjusted his grip under Adrian. "It was the people who wanted to see Adrian killed."

"They thought I was their enemy," Adrian said.

"We aren't in any condition to fight," Trevor said. 

"I can," Sypha said. "And so can you-- you don't need the whip."

Trevor sighed. "This is ridiculous. Adrian, tell them they're nuts."

Adrian raised his head. "Sypha is right."

Trevor resisted the temptation to drop him. Sypha's eyes shone. 

"Alright," Trevor said, "But you can't fight."

"I might be able to, actually," Adrian said. He cleared his throat. "Will you put me down?"

Again, Trevor resisted the temptation to drop him. He set Adrian cautiously onto his feet. Adrian sank onto all fours, and Trevor reached forward to keep him upright. But he wasn't falling. The black cloak transformed into sleek, silver fur. Adrian's face lengthened into a sharp, canine muzzle.

"Oh," Trevor said, as the wolf in front of him tested his paws. "I see. But you still made me carry you."

Adrian barked at him. 

"You can fight like that?" Sypha asked.

Adrian turned his nose to them and nodded. 

From out in front of them, Trevor heard an explosion and the crumbling of stone. He sighed. "Right. Fine. Let's go make mistakes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! They escaped! And it only took 8 chapters! 
> 
> And, look. I really like the whole shirtless plus overcoat Adrian look from the show intro. I couldn't resist. : P Also its wolf time!!!


	22. Saving the City

The bunker was failing. Demons had found three spots where the mortar was unreliable, and tore into the bricks there, making holes for themselves. None of them had gotten in yet, but they had minutes at most. 

"Distract them," Sypha said, "I'll secure the bunker."

Distractions. Trevor was good at those. He adjusted his grip on the sword. "You leathery bastards," he shouted, "Fight me."

A handful of demons turned their heads. 

A howl waivered in the air behind Trevor. Something swooshed past his leg. Adrian was a grey blur, hurtling towards the horde. Trevor followed him, raising his sword. This was going to be a tedious pain without his whip.

Sypha cried out behind them. There was an added edge of pain to their voice as they built walls of ice to cover the gaps in the bunker. 

Trevor got to be the flashy one this time. He lunged with his blade and caught his first demon by the throat. He kicked it off. Ducking away from a slash of claws, he called out.

"Sypha, can you clear a path for me?"

Walls of ice split the horde in front of Trevor. He cut down the demons who'd been caught in the middle, and headed for the bunker entrance.

Four guards stood at the bunker gate. One of them was leaning onto his spear, and another held his in one hand, using the other to cradle a nasty burn on his shoulder. The third raised his spear at Trevor, as though Trevor was one of the demons. And the fourth man?

"Hi Anton," Trevor said, "My friends are crazy. We've come to help."

Anton's mouth fell open. The man beside him brandished his spear, almost poking Trevor's chest. "Stay back."

"Alright," Trevor said. He shrugged and drew a dagger in his off hand. "You can just thank us later."

The ice walls were an excellent choke point. They allowed Trevor to stand just past the bunker entrance and take on demons no more than a few at a time. From the other side of the walls, he heard the low, animal snarls of a wolf and Sypha's casting cries.

The first minute of fighting went better than Trevor expected. Then things started to go wrong. He angled his blade at an approaching demon. It hissed and charged at him. Trevor braced himself. He brought the sword down. The steel swiped the air a half-foot from the demon's head.

The demon knocked Trevor back into an ice wall and rushed for the bunker.

"Shit," Trevor said. He stood up and saw three copies of the demon making for the guards. The scene swayed in front of Trevor. He reached for the back of his head.

His older siblings had joked about him having a thick skull. It was true. But Trevor winced as his fingers grazed tender flesh were his neck met his head. He'd been lightheaded before demons knocked him around. Now, with the adrenaline running low, he knew it was dangerous to keep fighting.

Trevor shook his head. He didn't care. The guards impaled the demon that had gotten past him. Trevor cut it from their spears. He was a Belmont. He kept fighting.

A few minutes later, the distant sound of chanting met Trevor's ears. He looked past the demon whose claws pressed against his sword. The demon looked back too.

"Oh, don't turn your back on me," Trevor said. He tore his blade out of the demon's hold, sidestepped it's lunge forward and sliced through its torso.

"That'll fucking teach you," Trevor said. But he was also following the insistent, low thrum of the sound. Many voices strung together. If it was closer, he might have been able to tell if the incantation was in Latin or Greek, if he could speak either. Trevor didn't need to be close though. He recognized the intention of the spell even if he couldn't decipher its words. It radiated from the city's center.

Trevor gulped. A very potent spell was being cast from where Dracula's castle loomed like a threat in the brightening sky.

A beam of light shot down. Trevor mistook it for lightning. But no. Lightning crackled along the sky as through tracing the random curves of a river, or the cracks that form in stone. This line of pure energy made straight for the highest spire of Dracula's castle. It struck and broke in endless directions, a thousand golden lines coming down over the castle's parapets and towers like a rain of sparks.

Not a spell from Dracula's castle, then. This was the kind of spell that was legendary to Trevor's family. It was a holy word, a benediction and a barrier. It shimmered around the black spectre of the fortress and held it in place with one last word, echoed in a hundred voices like thunder.

"Belmont."

Trevor was not a man of faith. But he felt a shiver go up his spine. He had believed in people once. In mankind made in God's image, in saints and prophets and holy shepherds who brought people to the light. Despite everything in the past year that had made him question that belief, Trevor felt some fraction of it restored as he saw the castle shrouded in gold like stars.

God, they might really be able to do this.

Searing pain caught Trevor's side. Crap. Three claws sunk into his skin. Trevor rolled away instinctively, clutching his hip. His sword clattered to the ground.

He didn't see the second demon. It tripped him, got one of his legs and dragged him forward.

"Get off," Trevor said. He kicked and squirmed. His hand clutching his hip was slick and sticky, and his head pounded. He felt drunk, with his dry mouth and unsteady vision. He reached forward, trying to rip off the claws holding him.

The demons got him to the edge of the ice walls. Trevor fumbled for his daggers and realized he had used them all. He clutched his hip and sent out a prayer to Belmonts gone.

The demons descended on him. As the first extended its claws, it sprouted a steel blade in its chest. The second went in for a bite and lost its head. An ashen hand pushed the bodies aside. A bloodmad vampire was suddenly on top of Trevor.

Trevor gasped. 

His Belmont training knew what he was seeing. The wide and red eyes, the way he panted on top of Trevor. Hunger and thirst and desire all contained in the way Adrian stared at the red blooming from Trevor's side. His hand reached forward, and Trevor could see every strained tendon in his fingers. Trevor flinched.

But it was Adrian. Neutered, self-restrained, half-vampire Adrian. He shook his head and his eyes were gold again.

"No," Adrian said. He pressed his hands into the sticky mess on the side of Trevor's shirt. "That- that's supposed to stay inside you."

"No fucking kidding," Trevor said.

"Is he okay?" Sypha asked. Trevor heard the sounds of their magic. They were still fighting, still battling the horde.

"He's bleeding!" Adrian said.

Trevor giggled. "You're really bad at this. I'm fine." His speech came out slurred, and sounded very far away.

"How much?" Sypha asked.

Adrian was getting blood on his hands. He applied pressure to Trevor's side and Trevor winced. "It-- I don't know-- a lot?"

"He needs bandages then," Sypha said. Their last word was swallowed in another cry of effort as they summoned a spell.

Adrian's eyes widened. "We don't have bandages!"

"Of course we don't," Sypha said. Trevor heard the frustration in their voice. It was hilarious. "Rip up his shirt and make some."

"Oh. Umm. Okay." Adrian said. He cautiously started unpeeling Trevor's tunic. His hands were shaking.

"You know what Adrian? Here. Let me."

Sypha appeared above Trevor. They were a mass of blue crowned in mousy brown hair. They shooed Adrian's hands away and ripped Trevor's shirt off him.

"How can I help?" Adrian said.

"Keep the horde off us," Sypha said. "There aren't too many left, but whatever spell got cast on the castle really riled them up."

Adrian seemed relieved to be ordered back into the fight. That, at least, was something he knew how to do. 

“Did- you didn’t do that, did you?” Trevor asked vainly, pointing weakly up to Dracula’s castle. The golden shower of sparks cascaded across its parapets like a waterfall.

Sypha didn’t glance up as they fastened the remains of Trevor’s shirt around his hip and waist. "Trevor, if I could do something like that, I’d have conjured you a bandage by now.”

“Ah, of course,” Trevor groaned, and then started giggling again. He wasn't watching Sypha. He looked over their shoulder to where Adrian stood at the edge of the ice walls again. He'd transformed back into a wolf.

"He's a big puppy."

Sypha gulped. "You hit your head too, didn't you?"

Trevor wheezed. "Big vampire puppy."

Sypha put their hands on the sides of Trevor's head. "Are you dizzy, or lightheaded?"

"Who asked you?" Trevor said, suddenly defensive. He tried to shake Sypha's hands off, but the effort made the sky spin. Then he chuckled again. "No one cares about me, Sypha."

"Idiot," Sypha said, very gently. They pressed their fingers to the back of Trevor's skull. He winced when they got to the sore spot. "I care about you."

"You wouldn't," Trevor said, "You wouldn't if you knew."

"Shush," Sypha said. Their amused face suddenly turned serious. They whipped their head around. "Is that--?"

Trevor heard it too. The stomp of heavy boots bounced against the inside of his skull. Steel glinted in the distance, but it was getting closer. A horn call sounded. 

"Crap," Sypha said. They called out to Adrian, "Can you carry him? We need to get out of here."

"It's fine, I can stand," Trevor said. He'd had hangovers worse than this. He clambered upright, tried to straighten his back, and tumbled back down. He would have landed on his still bruised face, except a warm pelt of silver fur appeared in front of him, gently catching him by the chest.

Adrian tilted his head over and whined. 

"Alright, Trevor. You're gonna need to hold on," Sypha said. They had one eye on the approaching guards and scattered demons. They helped Trevor get his leg over Adrian's back, and wrap his arms around Adrian's neck.

"Puppy," Trevor said again. He petted Adrian's head. Adrian seemed content to ignore this.

"Can you smell out somewhere we can hide?" Sypha asked.

Adrian barked once. He raised his nose and headed away from the bunker. 

Sypha sealed off ice walls as they went, guarding the bunker and covering their path. 

Trevor expected to be knocked off of Adrian with every step, but the ride was smooth. Adrian's pawsteps were quiet and gentle across the cobblestones, even with a heavy passenger. Trevor sank his face into Adrian's back. He was warm. Adrian sniffed, and pointed his nose at a side street. He barked for Sypha, and started down. 

Trevor yawned. "Sypha, I'm tired. Can I just--?" He started to slide off Adrian's back. 

"Nope," Sypha said, "Please, don't make me try to lift you."

Trevor grumbled and readjusted his grip. Adrian led them down the narrow alley. He paused, checking the air for a moment. Then he pawed at a door.

"Here-- you're sure?" Sypha said.

Another call of a horn split the air. Sypha winced. Adrian whimpered and scratched at the door. Sypha tried the handle. It came open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head cannon that Trevor is one of those people who just has to pet all the dogs?
> 
> We made it! Escaped! Out of the fight! *throws confetti* Now we get to the fluff and comfort and feelings and dialogue and-- everything else that I have trouble writing. : P
> 
> *blows a kiss to the folks leaving kudos and comments*


	23. Thirst (Adrian has some explaining to do)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I rewrote this chapter 3 times before figuring out it needed to be from Adrian's perspective. *bangs head into keyboard* Please enjoy the fruits of my suffering. : P

"You cannot understand what you are denying yourself," his father had said. 

Adrian tried to focus on Trevor, pale, delirious and shirtless in the bed in front of him. He was told to keep watch, and keep Trevor awake until the risk from the concussion had passed. Sypha had not informed Adrian what that risk was. He didn't want to find out.

"There is power in blood, Adrian. An immense wealth of magic."

A younger Adrian had shaken his head. How could he look his mother in the eye if he had ever tried blood? How could she accept him? Ironically, it was his father's will that had eventually given out. For all his life, Adrian had taken pride in being above it, above thirst. Now, the taste of blood he'd received from Trevor sang within him. It offered more power than he knew what to do with. It called his name. It filled him to the brim with static. He was still weak, and vulnerable, and it made him feel like lightning in a bottle, prone to shatter at any moment.

And, when it had come again, it wasn't a sound, or a smell, or even a feeling. Adrian was still staring at the demon he'd killed when red had washed over the scene. A heartbeat pounded in his ears. He hadn't understood- he didn't have time to. He'd transformed and jaunted across the battlefield and drew his blade in one wild motion.

The two demons he'd faced were suddenly the most abysmal creatures. They deserved less than just death; they deserved to return to the coldest parts of their own hell and suffer an eternity in it. Something that was his- Adrian's- had been violated by them. He settled for dispatching them both, and it wasn't till he looked down that he realized what he was even doing.

Blood had pounded in Adrian's ears and lent a red tint to his vision. Blood had pulled his stomach and lungs and heart up towards his shoulders with the force of something that wasn't a want but an utter, instinctual need. He was weak. He was hungry. And here it was, a taste promising to be as alluring and sweet and rich as the first. He was salivating. Adrian looked up from the pooling wound, and realized Trevor was staring at him. His eyes were unfocused, but Adrian still felt caught. He was hungry. He was disgusting. 

Easier, he thought, to be and stay a wolf, if he was becoming an animal anyway. 

A reassuring weight pressed itself between Adrian's ears. Adrian pulled himself from the memory and looked up. Trevor was petting his head again. 

"So you're just gonna stay like this, or?"

He could. He had enough magic to sustain the wolf form. And it was blissful. This body was mobile, painless and responsive. On the other hand, what Adrian thought of as his human body would not heal if he kept denying it. The sooner he got back, the sooner he could deal with his injuries. But how could he possibly explain himself to Trevor?

"It does shut you up," Trevor yawned.

Adrian transformed. He cursed Trevor in a voice only slightly high pitched from the sudden onset of pain. Trevor didn't seem to notice. He waived away the insult.

"Heh," Trevor said. He picked up a strand of Adrian's hair with impressive delicacy, considering he couldn't keep both eyes focused at once. Adrian winced. The rest of his hair moved with the lock Trevor had grabbed. It was a hopeless, tangled mass. "You're all messy."

"And you're going to bleed through your bandages if you keep reaching like this."

"Sypha'll get me more," Trevor said. 

“More blood?”

“More bandages,” Trevor snapped, “At least try to remember how humans work.”

Adrian turned away. He felt caught again, an uncouth child who had their ears cuffed. There had to be some supplies in one of the surrounding houses. The one they were in had been ransacked. 

"And I won't reach if you come over here."

Adrian gulped. Admittedly, he would be much more comfortable sitting on the bed than kneeling beside it. He picked himself up and slipped onto the mattress.

"Better," Trevor said.

Adrian froze. Trevor gently, methodically combed the tangles out of Adrian's hair with his fingers. Adrian had to remind himself that Belmont was a noble family's name. Of course Trevor had learned to groom himself; and probably also manners, etiquette and basic hygiene at one point in his life. It had just all been beaten out of him.

"Thank you," Adrian said.

Trevor chuckled again. "Your hair is nice."

Adrian should have just accept the misinterpretation. Trevor was working through the unmanageable tangles of his hair and hadn't seemed to notice the rough, almost desperate edge to Adrian's voice. He could have left it there. 

"No, I mean, thank you for the blood, Trevor."

"Did I go down good?"

Adrian resisted the temptation to sink his head into his hands. It would tear his hair out of Trevor's hold. What was he supposed to say to that? Would a lie, that he had tasted foul, or like nothing, or that Adrian hadn't even noticed, be a comfort or an insult? 

"You were great. I, uhh... needed that."

"Do you need more?"

Adrian closed his eyes and forced the thirst down. He was master of himself. He would not be a slave to the wanton cruelty and the thrill of the hunt that his father had once confessed had drawn him into darkness. He was his mother's son, as much as he was his father's.

This time, he did lie. "No. I'm fine."

Trevor seemed satisfied. He kept working his fingers through Adrian's hair. He was making progress, and his fingers occasionally brushed the back of Adrian's neck. The contact sent little shivers down Adrian's spine. Adrian let it distract him. He focused on healing, flexing the muscles in his legs, scouring out the damaged tissues and nerves so the magic he hummed with could repair them. 

Finally, Trevor withdrew his hands. Adrian reached back and brushed through his curls. He'd done a good job with them. Adrian looked back at Trevor. He was supposed to say something. He was supposed to be the lucid and responsible one in this situation. 

Trevor grinned at him. His gaze was steadier now, and there was the irritating glint in his eyes that Adrian knew preceded him saying something that was going to infuriate him. 

"So, no thirst, huh?"

Adrian winced. Damn him. Of course Trevor had noticed. Trevor was a vampire hunter. He'd been pinned by ravenous vampires before.

"I- I thought so."

"Guess it's like drinking," Trevor said.

"How do you mean?"

Trevor shrugged. "I mean, you don't realize ale fucks with you till you've tried it."

"Oh," Adrian said, "That-- makes sense." 

"Least you don't have teeth, right? Or will those grow back?"

Adrian curled in on himself like he'd been punched in the stomach. He hadn't even been thinking about that. He'd almost forgotten about the pain in his mouth; the little twinges when he spoke were a lot less noticeable than the injuries on his back and legs. This was the great irony of it all, wasn't it? He'd discovered this endless, dry well of thirst inside himself just after his fangs were ripped out of his mouth. He was brimming with vampiric power and had lost his weapons. He was, after all, disarmed and weakened and humiliated.

"Crap," Trevor said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

A heavy hand squeezed Adrian's shoulder.

"I don't know," Adrian rasped.

"Ugh, this is just like me. Stupid- stupid thing to say," Trevor said. He gripped Adrian's other shoulder. He sat up and wrapped his arms around him. "Stupid. Stupid."

Adrian let himself be tightly held. There was a strange comfort in it, being enveloped as though by a warm blanket. He felt Trevor's pulse very clearly in the contact. He was far too aware of it. His heartbeat was in his wrists, pressed to Adrian's chest, in the delicate thrumming of his throat as he apologized into Adrian's shoulder, in his torso pressed to Adrian's back. Adrian had always been able to hear the heart rates of nearby humans, but he hadn't considered why before, what his instincts and senses might be goading him towards. 

Adrian pulled himself slightly out of Trevor's hold, just enough so he could turn his head and raise an eyebrow. 

"Doesn't your hip hurt?"

Trevor chuckled, "Like hell, actually. Come here."

Adrian sighed and sank into the bed with Trevor. Trevor switched to cradling his head.

"Please don't tell Sypha," Adrian said.

"About the blood?"

Adrian shivered. He rested his face in Trevor's chest and felt small and broken and like the contact of his mouth to Trevor's bare skin was going to set him on fire. 

"About any of this."

"Yeah. Works for me," Trevor said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You do not actually have to keep people awake if they are concussed. But Sypha doesn't know that. And Adrian doesn't know how humans work.
> 
> Trevor and Adrian finally have a conversation! And all it took was torturing Adrian and hitting Trevor repeatedly over the head.
> 
> Also, cause I realize I posted chapter 8 an eternity ago; "I'm only half a vampire. I don't have bloodlust. I don't have thirst."


	24. Recovering

Adrian tore out of Trevor's hold. Trevor heard it too; the door downstairs easing open. 

Trevor gulped. Either it was Sypha returning, or they were in deep shit again. 

Adrian limped to the closed bedroom door and put his ear to the wood. After a moment, his shoulders loosed. 

"Its Sypha," he said. 

Trevor gave him a shaky thumbs up. He was stupidly hoping that Adrian would come back and lay on his chest again. Instead, Adrian eased open the door.

Yeah. Stupid. Trevor closed his eyes. He felt a very familiar shame in his stomach, the kind that usually came with a headache, a dry throat and a need to vomit. All he was missing was the vomiting, and this would be the aftermath of another night of drinking. Stupid, the things he'd said and done, how nice Adrian's cool cheek had felt on his chest, the softness of his hair in Trevor's hands. All stupid. 

At least they were agreed. No telling Sypha. This was their secret and Trevor's private shame.

He wondered, idly, if Adrian felt the same. 

Adrian and Sypha's voices filtered through the door.

"You're up!" Sypha said.

"How did your search go?"

"I tried not to take much-- I suppose it is stealing, but."

Adrian chuckled, "I think you're fine, Sypha."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Well, if you can keep an eye on Trevor, I need to hunt."

"Is that safe?" Sypha asked. 

Trevor heard the shrug in Adrian's voice. "Safer now that it will be at night, if demons are still wandering around."

"O-okay," Sypha said, "So, you're just alright then? After all that? I could take a look at your injuries, or?"

"There is no need," Adrian said. 

He walked past Sypha. Trevor heard Sypha sigh before they stepped into the bedroom.

Sypha had done well. They helped Trevor into proper bandages, and then into his Belmont tunic. They revealed what they'd found; dried fruit, cured meat and water.

"Shame you didn't find any swords," Trevor said through a mouth full of food.

Sypha furrowed their brow at him. "Swords? Why?"

Trevor jammed a thumb at the empty scabbard he'd left on the bedside. "I lost mine in the fight. And that fucking captain still has my whip."

Sypha winced. "How are we going to face Dracula like this? If you don't have weapons and Adrian's lost his--"

Trevor snorted, "I mean, he doesn't use those for fighting, really."

"Oh. I guess not."

"But, hey. We've got time."

"What do you mean?" Sypha demanded, "The castle is here."

"Yeah. And it's gonna be here for a while."

Sypha stared at him like they were worried the concussion was getting worse. Trevor shook his head, and noted that the motion didn't make him dizzy anymore.

"You heard that spell they cast, right? The light show it made over the castle?"

"Yes?"

Trevor chuckled. "Dracula's stuck until that barrier breaks. We've got a few days, at least. And then all the demons will come streaming out."

Sypha starred.

“What?” Trevor shrugged.

“Nothing it’s just- when were you trained in holy spells?”

There was a twinge of jealousy in their voice. Trevor allowed himself a prideful smirk. “Since I was a child, Sypha. Same as all Belmonts.”

“You don’t think there might be other Belmonts in the city do you?” Sypha asked.

Trevor hesitated. “Something like that.” 

“Riight,” said Sypha, not sounding convinced. They yawned. “Well, you two were quite the handful looking after last night and I need my rest. Wake me if things go to hell again."

For once, they didn't. Trevor lay in the bed. Sypha was sprawled onto the mattress next to him. Trevor listened to their steady breathing. Somehow, between the man trained to hunt demons his entire life and the inhumanly strong warrior prince, they, Sypha, had fared the best. Maybe it was a magic thing. Or maybe it was some sort of strange, cosmic reward for Sypha's kindness. Trevor had never felt he could afford to be kind. 

He should be asleep himself, but whenever he closed his eyes, the memory of holding Adrian in his arms, the way Adrian had trembled like a small bird in his hands, got in the way. It wasn't exactly a restful thought.

Instead, Trevor listened. He heard the stomping of boots as guards patrolled the city. There were no screeches of demons, no smell of burning in the air anymore. Arges had survived its first night with Dracula's castle staked through the center of the city. And, much more shockingly, Trevor, Sypha and Adrian had survived too.

Trevor got confirmation of this when he heard something scrap against the shutter of the window. A small black bat squirmed in through the crack in the shutter. 

"Hey there. Ate some helpless villagers?" Trevor asked.

Adrian reformed and settled into a chair by the window. "A couple of rats and a pigeon, actually," He grimaced, "And I surveyed the city. People seem to be staying in the bunkers. There's a big church procession, and guards on the prowl. But the demons don't seem to be able to pass through the barrier spell that was cast last night. They're hiding out in whatever dark corners they can find."

"Like us," Trevor said.

Adrian nodded. "We should be cautious."

"You doing better?"

"Much," Adrian said. He smiled. The expression was warmer and less disturbing without fangs. "I-- apologize for my behavior."

He kept his language deliberately vague. Trevor appreciated that. Sypha was asleep beside him, after all. "Same."

"Its embarrassing, actually. I might have panicked, when you were injured."

"Yeah. Yeah, you did," Trevor said.

Adrian shook his head. "My mother was a doctor. I should have-- you'd think I would have some sense. Of what to do."

Trevor chuckled. Too loudly. Sypha stirred next to him. He shook his head and whispered "Wait, your mother was a doctor? How the fuck did she end up with Dracula?"

"How to explain this," Adrian said. "You understand that my father isn't-- wasn't-- just some Christian symbol of absolute evil, right? His knowledge of the world, of the sciences, is unparalleled."

Trevor said, "You talk about Dracula and your father as if they're two different people."

"That's what it feels like," Adrian said. He clenched and unclenched his hands, and then spread them out. "Dracula is this legend-- this monster. My father was almost just a man. A stern and morose and occasionally solitary man. But, I dunno."

He looked between his hands, comparing one open to the other, clenched into a fist. Then he smirked at Trevor. "Perhaps I do not have a proper reference, for what a father is."

"Well," Trevor said, "We'll be seeing him soon enough. Are- are you sure you're going to be ready for this fight?"

"I will be," Adrian said. He curled both fists. 

"Go to bed," Sypha grumbled into their pillow.

Trevor turned his head. "Sypha, I'm in a bed, and Adrian sleeps in coffins."

"You know what I mean," Sypha said. They raised one hand and jabbed a finger towards Trevor. "You need to sleep," they said. Then they waived their hand vaguely at Adrian, "You need to stop distracting him."

"Distracting him?" Adrian said, putting an offended hand on his chest. 

Sypha raised their head and gave him a blurry glare. "We're not gonna be able to sleep if you're just sitting in a chair watching. That's weird."

"I could go into another room?"

"Nope," Sypha said. They patted the space in the middle of the bed. "Join us. Rest."

"Are you sure?" Adrian asked. He addressed Sypha, but his eyes were on Trevor. 

Trevor gave him a small nod. Sypha yawned and said, "Of course I'm sure."

Adrian stood up. He walked up to the frame and sank into the bed in between them with something like a sob. 

"We-we're gonna be okay," Sypha said. They set a gentle hand on Adrian's back. "I know you've been through hell. But we're gonna be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One moment of vulnerability between these two and then all the barriers are back up.
> 
> So, we are reaching the last 3 chapters of section 2. After this, I will probably slow down to posting every Tuesday and Thursday? Some of the chapters of section 3 are just gonna be a bit of a slog. I'm very excited to be getting to the end game though.


	25. Amends (As Though Anything Could Fix This)

They had their day of rest, and a quiet night, where the screeching of demons stayed far away. The next morning, Trevor woke up to a knock on the door.

"The fuck?"

He started to rise and an arm like an iron bar stopped him. 

"Thank you, Adrian," Sypha said. The two of them had been fighting to get Trevor to sleep the entire night. Trevor had tried to get up to investigate every suspicious sound he'd heard.

"Trevor, I swear I will pin you to the bed. Just. Rest."

Trevor laid back down and tried not to imagine being pinned to the bed by Adrian. 

Sypha started to stretch, winced, and slid out of bed opposite Adrian. "Is someone at the door? Why?"

"Civilians coming back?" Adrian asked. He followed Sypha and held the bedroom door open for them. 

"Maybe," Sypha said. They went down the stairs and Adrian stood in the bedroom door. He could be there in a red flash if there was trouble. 

"Decided you don't want to meet any more locals?" Trevor asked. 

"Not as such, no," Adrian said.

Sypha opened the door. They gasped, and then screeched, "You!"

Trevor heard them summon a spell. A strange, high pitched squeak floated in from just outside the door. It sounded like Adrian was still a bat, and he'd just been stepped on.

"Shit," Trevor said. He hated being left in suspense. His hip didn't hurt that badly. He dragged himself out of the bed and to the doorway. 

A familiar voice echoed up the stairs. "The captain wants to talk."

"Talk-?" Sypha demanded, "Talk? I was ready to talk. I was prepared to explain everything. And what did you fucking do?"

Trevor limped out of the bedroom. Sypha was screaming into the morning light. Trevor blinked, and realized one of the guards, Anton, was standing in the door frame. He took a step back as Sypha roared. He raised his hands into the air. He grimaced like this was the last place in the world he'd like to be.

Trevor was sorely tempted to add to the yelling. But he heard wood straining and creaking next to him. He looked over.

Adrian was hunched over the railing on the top of the stairs. His fingers looked like they were about to snap, and Trevor realized he was gripping the frame so hard that the wood was breaking in his hold. His eyes were on the door and his mouth was slightly open.

"Adrian?" Trevor asked.

"I want to tear him apart."

"Well, Sypha's already ripping into him."

They were. Trevor listened and admitted that he was impressed. Sypha had really taken to the swearing. They- they'd grown up so fast. 

"No," Adrian hissed. He closed his eyes and forcibly removed his hands from the cracked railing. "I- I mean I want to rip his throat open. I want to disembowel him."

Trevor shrugged. "I mean, that's fair-- hey."

The last bit in response to Adrian groaning and slumping onto the floor. 

"Adrian?"

He sunk his head into his hands.

"Shit, ummm," Trevor sighed. He started to bend over, winced, considered nudging Adrian with his foot to snap him out of it, decided that was too much, and settled for half-falling to the floor. He put a hand on Adrian's shoulder, mostly to help with the falling.

"You, uhh, holding back some kind of terrifying vampiric rage?" 

"I'm no different," Adrian said.

Trevor sat on the floor next to him. He listened to Sypha.

"You fucking tortured us. You could have ruined everything-- you might have anyway. I told you about our mission. I wanted to fucking believe you that you wanted answers. But no. You're all just awful, ignorant humans, drunk on power and believing your own moral high ground. Fuck you. Go away!"

Trevor looked over. His hand was still on Adrian's shoulder. Adrian leaned into it.

"I'm no different from Dracula."

Trevor chuckled, "What, cause you want to disembowel someone? That's not quite declaring war on humanity."

"I just-- thought there might be some dividing line. Something in me that made me more than all of this darkness. A reason I didn't thirst for blood or violence or cruelty."

"Oh."

Trevor blinked. He hadn't expected naivete from Adrian. From Sypha, certainly, and he still found it in himself. But here it was. Adrian didn't understand violence; he didn't understand the way that taking life hardened people. And maybe that failure to understand, the simple fear that he could slip into the dark as though one didn't walk in believing they were following the right path, that anxiety was what made him different from any vampire Trevor had ever met. Trevor squeezed his shoulder. 

"Adrian? How old are you?"

"Hmmm. I would have slept through a birthday, I suppose. Twenty."

"You're fucking kidding me."

"I can sleep for a very long time, Trevor."

Trevor gaped at him. "But, you're younger than me? The fuck?"

"How old did you think I was?"

"I dunno. A hundred and a bit, based on your powers and the stupid way you talk."

Adrian smirked, "Come on, Trevor. I can't be that old if my mother is still--"

He stuttered. His mouth formed the word, alive. But it died in the air. Trevor squeezed him into an awkward hug. He knew that pain. How many times had he found himself sick for a home that didn't exist anymore? 

"God, you're practically a child," Trevor said.

"Don't patronize me," Adrian said, "You can't be older than twenty six- twenty five?"

"Twenty four," Trevor said, "Guess I'm team leader now."

"Absolutely not," Adrian said. He leaned into the hug. "Its probably Sypha."

Trevor shrugged. Probably. He went back to watching Sypha. They were gasping like they been running. They jabbed a finger through the doorway. Trevor saw that Anton was still there, stone faced, having taken it all. 

"Don't you have your precious city to protect?" Sypha said.

"Yes," the guard said, "That's why I'm here. Captain needs to know. Are you still going to fight Dracula?"

"What?"

"That was your mission, right? To defeat Dracula?" 

"Yes," Sypha said, wearily.

"Then you are our best chance to get his damned castle out of the city. The Belmont barrier will only hold for two days or so. After that," the guard gulped, "We'll fight whatever horrors surge out of it. But the captain can't send anyone in."

Sypha folded their arms. "Oh, so you keep us locked away and the moment you're in trouble suddenly you believe us? What are we, you're fucking attack dogs? Figure it out yourself!"

"We can't take back what was done to you," the guard said, "But-- if you need a place to stay."

"Is it the fucking barracks?"

He winced, "The guard won't bother you anymore."

Sypha raised a single finger at him. "Fuck." They made the same gesture with their other hand. "You." 

"Alright," Anton said. He stepped back. "Just, take these. For what it's worth."

He dropped a bag at Sypha's feet. It clattered. Then he walked away, with the dignity of someone who still thinks they were justified.

"Oh hell," Sypha said. They snatched up the bag, slammed the door, and then slowly started up the stairs. "Trevor, how do you stay this angry all the time?"

Trevor shrugged, "Its actually mostly snark."

Adrian chuckled. 

"So, what parting gift did the dear captain leave us?" Trevor asked. 

"I don't know," Sypha said, "And I don't care. I'm going to go set something on fire." They dropped the bag beside Trevor, opened the bedroom door and jammed it behind them.

Trevor looked after them. He raised an eyebrow. "Hope they don't burn up the bed."

"Thought you didn't like beds," Adrian said.

Trevor picked up the bag, deliberately avoiding Adrian's eyes. "They're, uhh, better with company, I guess."

Trevor upended the bag before Adrian could comment. His weapons jingled out. 

"Oh, thank fuck," Trevor said. He checked his sword. It hadn't just been cleaned; someone had polished it. He carefully spread out his assortment of daggers and counted them. Next to his whip, he noticed a small black box. It was maybe two inches long and half as wide. Trevor picked it up, and it rattled. He opened it.

"Shit," Trevor said. He closed the box and thrust it into Adrian's hands. 

"What is-- oh," Adrian said, "Oh."

He gingerly took his fangs out of the box. His lip twitched. He started to laugh. "W-what am I supposed to do with these?"

A red tear driped out from his lidded eyes. He swiped it away. 

"I dunno," Trevor said. He set his weapons aside and scooted over, offering his shoulder to lean on. "What if you made, like, a really cool necklace?"

"You're the worst, Trevor," Adrian said into his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. One more chapter to post and then, on to part 3. o.o
> 
> Are you ready? I'm not ready. *muffled screaming noises*


	26. Best Laid Plans

"So, I guess we're not going to your library, then."

Trevor looked over at Sypha a little blankly. They had started a fire, safely contained in the hearth opposite the bed. He and Sypha were sprawled out, enjoying the warmth.

Behind him, Adrian wheezed, "Oh, that's right. The hidden Belmont library. Damn. Suppose we'll have to give it a miss."

"Christ," Trevor said. He chuckled. "You sound so disappointed."

"It might have been a good lead," Sypha said, "But, we'll find our answers in the castle."

Trevor yawned, "Ehh. Captain probably pillaged it for anything of worth anyway. The fucker."

Sypha's head snapped over, "Wait. You mean- she somehow broke into the library?"

"And stole everything that could be used against evil shit, yeah."

"Oh, that's how they did it," Adrian said. He smacked his forehead. "They stole your families horrid-- implements."

Trevor looked over at him. "Make you feel any better about getting caught?"

"Yes, actually."

"Guess she's some-- distant relative of mine," Trevor said. He shuddered. "That stuff wasn't doing any good smoldering under a ruined mansion. And Arges would have probably been destroyed without all the holy magic. But, still, fuck."

"How long did you know about this?" Sypha asked. Their voice was very calm, but Trevor caught a warning edge to it anyway, like the silvery sheen of a sea monster about to break the tranquil surface.

"Oh, uh, there was a Belmont crest on the city gate. That's what messed up Adrian."

"Really?" Adrian said. "That feels like it happened a lifetime ago. You never thought to mention?"

Trevor shrugged. "Didn't see what good it would do."

"Well, since we're all here, anything else you need to tell?" Sypha asked, "Like, I dunno, what you were doing with Adrian in that cell that I absolutely wasn't allowed to see."

"Oh, I was making sure they hadn't castrated him."

Adrian choked. "Trevor." He glared. Trevor grinned back at him. He privately relished that Adrian now had to go along with this lie. 

"Ah," Sypha said. They cleared their throat. "Right. Adrian?"

"Please don't ask me what I think you're about to ask me."

"What can you tell us about Dracula's castle?"

"Oh," Adrian said, with obvious relief. "Yes, okay."

"You grew up there, right?" Sypha asked softly.

Adrian nodded, "Although, the castle is a strange thing. It changes-- conforms to Dracula's will." 

"It also teleports," Trevor said. 

"I suspect his grief will have altered the structure of the castle. And of course his dungeons are full of monsters."

"Of course," Sypha said dryly.

"Sounds like a real great dad," Trevor said.

Adrian shrugged. He shared everything he remembered about the castle's layout.

Trevor was dozing before Adrian finished. He'd lost interest after Adrian had spent thirty minutes talking about a particular library in the east wing. 

"What about the prophecy, though? Artifacts? Where would he keep them?"

"Hmmm. The treasury," Adrian said, "Or, perhaps in one of his torture chambers, with the heart and rib and--"

"Fang and eye?" Sypha said. 

"I'm not scouring dungeons for spare parts," Trevor said, shaking himself awake, "If the prophecy bullshit comes up, it comes up. I'm going for Dracula."

"I hate to say this, but I agree," Adrian said, "I don't like the idea of searching the castle with Dracula breathing down our necks. If we can finish this thing, we do."

Sypha glared. "It worries me when you two start agreeing with each other."

 

They got their two days. Sypha stretched out their shoulders, trying to get back to the mobility and flexibility they'd had before. Trevor grumbled and allowed himself to rest until the shallow, but damned inconvenient slices on his side started to seal. He wouldn't be healed or whole when it was time to storm Dracula's castle, but he wouldn't be bleeding through the bandages.

Adrian insisted he had healed. He was certainly mobile and able. He was also gloomier than usual. He took long flights out over the city. Trevor assumed he was hunting. He didn't ask. He wanted to hold Adrian in his arms again and comfort him, but that window of vulnerability was gone, and Trevor's shame kept him quiet.

Trevor thought back to the Belmonts before him. Belmonts who could only be sneering down at Trevor and his meager heroics. He wondered if they had felt this way before their epic quests, oddly hampered, with a half-forged plan, an awkward time to wait, a nagging injury at their hip and complicated feelings for their vampiric companion.

Probably not that last one.

The day came without fanfare. There was no hero's guard or holy processional to greet them. Which, Trevor reflected, was probably a good thing. But when he pictured himself in the role of his ancestors in their legends, he'd always romanticized this part that came before the battle. The last celebration before the gruesome quest. He looked to Adrian and Sypha, arming themselves up around him. 

Were any of them going to get out of this alive?

"The guards are marching," Sypha said, "We don't have much time. Trevor, are you ready?"

"Yeah," Trevor said. He made to stand. Adrian offered him a hand and helped him up. 

"Adrian? Will you be okay-- its sunny out?"

Adrian rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine." His fingers grazed Trevor's palm before he pulled them away.

"Right," Sypha said. They adjusted the cowl of their robes. They loosened their shoulders with a grimace. "Let's do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it!! On to part three! I'll be updating every Tuesday and Thursday! I'm really excited for what's coming. There will be at least 10 chapters? Knowing me, probably more. 
> 
> A few notes. I cracked up this morning realizing that I need to add the Major Character Death archive warning. Spoilers; the trio is killing Dracula in this. I forgot that killing Dracula means we're killing Dracula. : P 
> 
> I'm also gonna try to update the fic description so it reads like an actual fic description? Like I said, I'm super new to this. Should be fun.
> 
> I'm also dreaming up a new fic (cause of course I am) with the premise of "how much would I have to alter this story and these characters to let Adrian be the top in a relationship with Trevor?" 
> 
> Much love to everyone leaving comments and kudos. Thank you so much for your support and your patience! This is gonna be so fun everyone!


	27. Storming the Castle (Sypha is also a main character, dammit)

Up close, the castle was like no building Sypha had ever seen. It was lopsided, a more modern wing with buttresses and grand windows added in on the left. Like the new had grown, a malignant tumor from an old wound. The castle breathed. A large dome to the east of the main door shuddered, sparking with electricity and light.

This thing was alive. Immortal. Resentful. Above the looming door, its windows were like lightless eyes.

Sypha wondered if the castle was, in its way, a monument to the warlord they had memorized so many stories of. Vlad Dracula Tepes, who once held Wallachia with blood and fire, who sought old magic and made himself into the dragon, or the devil. He had been a man once, like the fortress they faced had been just a castle.

"So, do we knock?" Trevor asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sypha hissed. They shielded their eyes and looked up at the windows. They could build a wall of ice, carrying the party up and smash through the glass. Sypha's shoulders twinged at the idea of such a concentrated effort. 

Adrian slipped past them. He inspected the grand double doors, embossed in bronze and gold. He raised a hand and slammed his fist into the door, giving three sharp knocks.

Trevor chuckled. Sypha rolled their eyes, then gasped as the doors creaked open. The dark from inside seemed to stretch out its hands at take Adrian in.

Trevor and Sypha joined him. 

Inside, a set of stairways reached down like two inviting arms. False hospitality, as the lights flickered blue in strange sconces around the room. It was an entrance hall, with long stripes of red and gold tile on the floor. 

Adrian took a deep breath and started in.

Sypha followed, a tiny ball of energy in one hand. Trevor drew his sword and took up the rear. His eyes kept flicking to the corners of the hall.

"It's deserted," Sypha said.

"Maybe all the beasties flew off when the barrier gave?" Trevor said.

Adrian looked back at both of them and put a finger to his lips.

Sypha rolled their eyes, "You're the one who knocked."

They made it halfway across the hall when the entrance doors suddenly slammed. Sypha turned back, and then felt the hairs on the back of their neck rise.

No. The doors were a distraction. Something in the shadows at the edges of the hall and the corners of the stairways moved. Sypha shivered. They realized it wasn't something in the shadows. The shadows themselves trickled down the steps like water. They pooled together at the base of the steps, an undulating mass of dark.

Sypha prepared a spell. Beside them, Adrian drew his sword. They nodded at each other.

Trevor charged in with a yell.

"Trevor, no!"

But he was already at the pool of smoke. He slashed at it. The darkness hissed. It withdrew from Trevor's blade like someone drawing the edges of their cloak in, away from the wind. A single, red light shone from where the cloaked figure would have had a face. The light flashed, a moment of blinding red.

It was a shade. Sypha tried to call out a warning to Trevor as it rose from the pool and discovered they couldn't move their jaw. Their outstretched casting hand was frozen, immobile in front of them. Trevor was caught still bringing his sword down to strike. Adrian was frozen to Sypha's right.

"Ever the insolent boy," the shade hissed. It floated forward. Beneath the cloak, there was nothing except the malignant light. "You will not find the master here."

"Step aside," Adrian said. He was shrugging off part of the compulsion, at least enough to speak.

"Very well. But I must take something from you. And your companions."

The red light flashed again. Adrian's sword vanished from his hands. The shade turned on Trevor. His disappeared as well, along with the daggers at his chest.

The epicenter of the red light rounded on Sypha. It flickered, as though the shade was considering them. 

"Ah, of course," the shade said. The light, which at it center looked like a blazing ruby, gleamed. It flashed once more, a blinding, sustained beam. Sypha braced themselves, ready for whatever the shade would take.

A gust of wind ran through Sypha. Something malignant scraped their cheek. A last curse hissed into the eaves of the hall. 

Sypha blinked away the glowing spots the light had left in their vision. They pressed a hand to their chest on instinct. All of their organs still seemed to be there. They made a gesture and summoned a tiny ball of light into their hands.

"I think he- missed?" Sypha said.

"Lucky fucking you," Trevor growled. He picked himself up from a column, rubbing the back of his skull.

Adrian was already at the stairs. He peered into the dark past the banister. He sighed. "I suppose we were expected."

"Well, yeah," Trevor said, "You knocked on the damn door."

"This is- was my home, Belmont." He started up the stairs. "But I suppose we should get out of here before demons find us."

Sypha nodded and followed Adrian, keeping a spell in their mind. Trevor grumbled behind them.

"The fuck was that thing anyway?"

Sypha looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. "It was a shade, Trevor. A spectre of death. I thought you knew your monsters."

"Your mistake was assuming he knows anything," Adrian called. He reached the top of the stairs.

"Oh, fuck you," Trevor said.

Adrian gave him a very cold sneer and then pointed down the hallway past the stairs. "This leads to the marble gallery. Which connects to Dracula's chambers. It's the best place to start looking."

"Right," Sypha said, "But what did the shade mean- that we won't find him here?"

Adrian shrugged. "I don't know."

"We'd better not find Dracula now," Trevor said, "Not without weapons."

"Don't fancy punching the lord of darkness?" Adrian asked.

Sypha shook their head. They summoned a light and it reflected back on the white stone. Grand, carved pillars dwarfed them on either side. Between the pillars were statues. Sypha shivered. They expected the grotesque, headless bird-men rendered in bronze to move as soon as they turned their back. For now, everything was quiet. Why did they feel like they were being watched?

Sypha stretched out their senses, trying to listen for the click of claws, or maybe the hiss of scraping cloth that meant the shade was near. Instead, they heard Adrian and Trevor bickering.

"I'm sorry. Did you lose your precious whip?" Adrian said. "How do you think I feel that you still carry that awful thing around?"

"I didn't think we'd be waltzing straight into a trap," Trevor spat back, "You should have warned us."

"Warned you? That Dracula's castle might be dangerous?"

"I expected more demons, not the damned grim reaper."

Sypha shook their head. They put a finger to their lips and glared at Adrian and Trevor in turn. The two of them had been getting along since they escaped the barracks. Why the hell were they fighting now?

Sypha crept down the long hallway. The shadows around them flickered wildly, and they remembered stories about this place; the armies who had stormed the fortress of Vlad Dracul, and then his more infamous son. How many ghosts lingered up in the rafters with the flickering dark? How many spirits were trapped here? 

There was a gargoyle at the end of the hall, its mouth gaping, its dead stone eyes wide. Its wings extended towards two side passages. To the left, Sypha heard the buzzing of static. To the right, there was a single door, its gold frame glinting from Sypha's light.

"Which way?" Sypha whispered.

Adrian pointed to the right.

"Hold up," Trevor said, "Are you mad? If Dracula's there- if he's really just hanging out in his chambers, and we walk in unarmed-"

Sypha paused, staring down the hall.

Adrian gulped, "It's daytime. He might be asleep."

"Might be? And what the fuck will we do if he wakes up?"

"By all means keep yelling about this, Belmont."

Something was wrong about all of this. It itched in the back of Sypha's mind. They weren't supposed to be here yet. There were artifacts to collect. Why was the castle deserted? If Dracula really was so close, why hadn't they encountered anyone, or anything, since the entrance hall?

They walked past Adrian, down the hallway. What had they learned of the traveling machine that was Dracula's castle? It was supposed to be full of illusions, contraptions and a menagerie of monsters. Where were they?

"We have to find our weapons first."

"And face all the other horrors of the castle?"

"I get it," Trevor said. He chuckled. "You just don't care cause you already lost your fangs."

Sypha heard the slap from across the hall. They turned. Trevor leaned back, holding his face. Adrian still had his hand raised.

"Oh, you bastard," Trevor swore. He lunged.

"What- wait- No!" Sypha called out. They threw up both hands. A sheet of ice formed between Adrian and Trevor.

Trevor slammed into it. "Oi!" he yelled, "Let me at him. Smug prick!"

"You idiots," Sypha said, "We're supposed to be fighting Dracula, not each other."

They stormed back to Trevor. And then something made them pause. It was just Trevor and Adrian standing on either side of the ice, scowling at each other. Sypha's eyes had caught on the reflection Trevor made in the ice. The shape was distorted. But Sypha was pretty sure Trevor didn't normally have a tail.

Sypha looked over at Adrian. Adrian rolled his eyes. "Belmont's losing it."

Belmont. He hadn't called Trevor "Belmont" since they'd escaped. 

"Shit!" Sypha breathed, "I'm sorry about this." They made a complicated circular motion with both hands, wrapping the walls of ice around Adrian and Trevor. Viewed through the glassy sheets, they were not Sypha's companions. Humanoid demons leered at Sypha. The one that had replaced Trevor was male, with broad shoulders, a tiny bit of cloth covering his crotch, and a long, reptilian tail snaking around one leg. The one that had replaced Adrian was female, wearing a set of bat wings around her body like a cloak.

Incubi. Sypha gulped, suddenly realizing what the shade had taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sypha is a relevant actor in this story, gosh darn it. I'm experimenting with alternating POV chapters. Should be fun! 
> 
> So, its uncle Death. We all know it's uncle Death. I'm just a little skeeved out calling it death? Shade is fine, right? Right? I don't know. I have weird limits. For instance, I apparently can't handle trying to depict Trevor drinking.
> 
> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!


	28. Falling (The Guys Are Okay. I promise!!!)

"Well, smack me with a fuck stick," Trevor said. He sat on all fours at the edge of a stone platform. It was somehow hovering in the air. The ground swayed dizzyingly below him. Too far to jump. He gritted his teeth.

In a red flash, Trevor had been dropped from the entrance hall onto an exposed floating stone high above the main castle. His daggers and swords were gone. But Trevor still felt the reassuring weight of his whip at his side. He eyed the nearest structure. It was one of the tall towers at the top of the castle. The stone was smooth, with nothing he could grapple to.

Trevor cursed and slammed his first into the platform underneath him. The stone groaned in response. The whole structure heaved.

"Shit. I didn't mean it," Trevor said, suddenly clutching the edges of the platform. It hummed, vibrating slightly in his hold. Then it started to rise.

"No," Trevor said, "Stop, don't, crap." But he was rising, at increasing speed, into the empty sky.

Trevor peered up. The top of the nearby tower was fast approaching. There was a gargoyle mounted in one corner. Trevor unfurled his whip. He prayed the damn stone was sturdy. Jerking his arm forward, he got the last three feet of his whip wrapped around the gargoyle's chest.

"Please, please work," Trevor said. He grabbed the whip in both hands. He leapt.

For a moment, Trevor was simply falling. The lower reaches of Dracula's castle stretched out under him. A wide and barren courtyard leered up at him, its fences rising like teeth to snap him up.

Trevor heard leather snap and stretch above him. He braced himself and got his legs out in front of him. Either this was going to hold and he'd use his legs to cushion the impact of smashing into the tower, or his whip would give and no amount of bracing himself would matter.

The whip held. Trevor grunted as the break of momentum wrenched his shoulders. He flew forward and slammed into the side of the tower. The brick gave under his feet.

"Fucks sake," Trevor hissed as he slammed through. Bricks toppled in with him. He rolled across the floor. Layers of soft fabric brushed past him. A haunting waltz echoed through the air. Trevor gasped and smelled perfume. He stumbled upright and found himself in the middle of a fully occupied ballroom. Perfectly paired off men and women danced around him.

Suddenly, Trevor was sixteen, too tall, perpetually awkward and always saying the wrong thing. He waded through the interweaving tangle of dancers, doing what he always did; searching for a place to sit where he'd be ignored. He'd always hated the parties his parents dragged him to.

All of the tables at the outskirts of the ballroom were occupied. Trevor saw his father and uncle drinking with other men in one corner. Bright young men and women sat beside each other at most of the others. The men slipped behind the women's fans to whisper in their ears. It was all meaningless to Trevor. It was all drivel. It made him feel empty like a piece of fruit that had been hollowed out and left to rot.

Finally, he found a table with only one occupant; a boy just a little older than Trevor himself.

"This chair taken?"

The boy shook his head. His eyes were on the dancers. There was something in his gaze Trevor understood. It wasn't jealousy. Trevor had been warned to expect jealousy as a young man. He wondered what that felt like. He saw more familiar things in the boys face; fear and shame. Fear was in his wide eyes as he followed the interweaving motions of the waltz. Shame was his clenched hand on the table.

Trevor was content to sit there, practically invisible. But after a moment, the boy turned his head.

"You're the Belmont son, right?"

"Yeah. Trevor."

He extended a hand, "Stephen Petrescue. I think my brother is out their trying to secure a dance with your sister."

Trevor shook it. He chuckled, "Well if it's Cassandra, I hope he wore iron shoes."

Stephen smiled. His eyes were back on the dance. He watched for another few beats and then gulped.

"You ever danced with a woman, Trevor?"

"Yeah. Course I have."

He tapped his fingers on the table, in time with his own thoughts and not the music.

"You ever loved a woman?"

Trevor coughed. "Have you?"

"No."

"No."

"Guess we're lucky, right? Youngest sons. My father told me I could marry for love," Stephen said. He laughed bitterly.

"I'm thinking priesthood myself," Trevor said, "Celibacy and the immortal soul and whatever."

Stephen shook his head. "What a waste."

"What do you mean?"

He side-eyed Trevor. "Care to take a walk, Trevor?"

And Trevor, who understood nothing, had nodded and followed him. His heart was in his throat and he didn't know why. This was before he'd realized his feelings were for men, and men alone. Before he'd internalized the dirty words, when he'd just felt broken and confused.

Stephen had taken him to a nook behind a hedge in the gardens and pressed his chapped lips to Trevor's own.

Trevor shook his head and fell out of the figment. The illusion melted away as Trevor stood up. He was himself again. The waltzing music faded from the air. It was just the hissing of wind through the hole he'd made in the wall.

Trevor brushed the weight of that first realization off his body. He looked around. He was in a storage room, smelling like must and moth balls and certainly not perfume. Cloth draped over mismatched furniture all around him; that was what had given him the impression of brushing against so many skirts.

Trevor rubbed his head, trying to free himself from the feeling. It had been so long ago now, almost eight years since the first taste he'd had of another mans lips. He retraced his steps to the hole he'd bashed into the side of the tower. He retrieved his whip.

* * *

 

Adrian stood up and dusted himself off.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

A small army of vampires, Dracula's spawn, had surrounded him. Of course the shade would dump Adrian into the colosseum.

Adrian cracked his knuckles. "All right. One chance. Where is your master?"

The vampires hissed and descended on him, their weapons raised.

"Very well," Adrian said. He sidestepped and disarmed the first spawn in one motion. He eyed the blade he'd taken. It was well made, he decided, but poorly cared for and covered in grim. Adrian wrinkled his nose and moved to bury the blade in the chest of the second vampire charging in at him. He kicked the third aside and allowed a fourth to charge, only to teleport away so he impaled the first instead.

Adrian danced between their eager, but untrained blades. He finally stole a sword that suited him, almost as long and narrow as his rapier. It would do for now. He adjusted his grip, gritted his teeth, and started on the gruesome work of killing vampires so that they stayed dead.

When he was done, Adrian was panting, surrounded by the sludge of so many headless bodies. With their black cloaks and thick, brown blood, they formed a distasteful sludge around him. Adrian cleaned his blade on one of the cloaks. Was this really what he was half of? The similarities were not lost on him. Like him, these creatures had been created by giving a human just a bit of Dracula's own self. But Adrian had been born, not made and in that way he had gotten to make himself.

"Does it please you, to kill your own kind?"

Adrian spun around. A red light shown from the rafters. The shade pulled itself across the ceiling, well above Adrian's reach. The edge of its long cloak trailed behind it, weightless as air.

"Where are the humans, old man?"

The shade chuckled. "You think they will accept you?"

Adrian sighed. He closed his eyes, trying to force his body into a feeling of weightlessness. It was hard when anger and fear broiled up in him.

"This is a war between species, Alucard," the shade said. "Even if you should succeed, destroy the master and all his spawn, his castle and legacy-- well, there would still be you. One last abomination to root out and burn."

Adrian rose into the air, sword in hand. "Where are my friends?"

"You don't have friends, boy," the shade said. It cackled and slipped out through a side passage. Adrian gave chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys! I finally figured out how to insert line breaks!! I can change POV in one chapter now!! XD
> 
> So, welcome to each character's private journey through the labyrinth of personal pain and self-realization that is Dracula's castle. Cause people other than Trevor need character development and growth, darn it.
> 
> I have been pouring over the maps of Castlevania SotN as reference for this story. A lot. I don't have access to the games (*glares at Konami*) but I've watched play throughs and scoured the wiki with, uhh, mixed success. If worse comes to worse, I figure I can always do some magic castle handwaving to justify where different areas are connected. I'm trying not to get completely sucked into research cause if I get too deep, I will stop writing all together. 
> 
> Mighta spent three months reading everything I could find on vampire folklore. *Ehem* Want to know why almost every culture that doesn't cremate their dead has vampire myths?


	29. Heart (Sypha goes all evil emperor on some sex demons?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning- gore, arteries, needles (stay safe everyone!)

"What have you done to them?" Sypha asked.

The succubi shrugged under her wings. "Blame the shade, not us. I'm sure the Belmont and the traitor are-- fine."

The incubi laughed.

Sypha shook their head. They brought their hands together, and the walls of ice shattered, collapsing inward so that crystalline spikes surrounded both demons. Their fingers only trembled slightly. Sypha knew what could be done with the application of pain now. They had always believed in fighting clean. But they also needed information.

"Awwwah, is girly gonna play with us?" the incubi demanded. He had managed to perfectly mimic the low, grating quality of Trevor's voice when he was trying to drive them nuts. 

Sypha summoned a ball of energy in their hand. "Do not call me that."

"Or what, sweetheart?" the succubi asked, "What are you gonna do?" It felt strange to hear Adrian's articulate speech twisted into something colloquial and teasing.

The energy between Sypha's fingers zapped and crackled. They stepped towards the incubus. Sypha normally didn't bother with lightning. The magic was unpredictable, more difficult to control than ice or fire, more dangerous than wind. But they knew from many miscast spells that it was painful. 

"Where are my friends?" Sypha asked. They extended their hand. Tiny arcs of lightning shot from fingertip to fingertip. 

DemonTrevor leered at Sypha, but his eyes kept flicking to the crackling spell between their fingers. Sypha brought their hand just close enough that energy arched across and struck the demon's cheek. The incubi hissed. 

"You are going to tell me what you know," Sypha said, "Or I'm going to see what happens if I press my hand directly into your eye."

"We don't know anything," the succubus said, "Him especially."

"Thanks darling," the incubus said, "Really appreciate the support."

Sypha shrugged. The movement hurt, recalling what they had suffered. That was the point, right? This was a war and the language it spoke was pain and they were going to deal in that language if that was what it took to win. Sypha inched their hand forward. Little sparks bit into the incubus's nose. 

He flinched and scrunched his eyes closed. "They're deeper in the castle. The shade teleported them away. We don't know where."

"Right," Sypha said, "and where is Dracula?"

"Everywhere," the incubus said. He leaned away from Sypha's hand, and Sypha heard the back of his scalp blistering on the ice. 

Sypha brought their energy covered fingers close enough that the incubus could feel the heat from the spell. A slip of their hand, and they'd cook the demon's face. 

"He split himself up," the succubus called out. 

The incubus shot her such a frustrated glare that Sypha saw him as Trevor again. This was more than they could handle, inflicting pain on things that had taken the forms of their allies. They couldn't even think about hurting the demon that resembled Adrian. 

And, Sypha didn't need to. They could begin to guess what the succubus meant, by Dracula splitting himself apart. The prophecy was finally beginning to make sense.

Sypha curled their hand, and the spell petered out. They left the demons encased in ice and still jeering insults, half at Sypha and half at each other. They strode down the hallway, towards Dracula's study. Now Sypha had an idea what they were going to find within.

Sypha eased open the ornate door. They looked inside. The study they saw was simple; a fine chair, a bare wooden table beside it, the edges of the room lined in bookshelves. It looked habitual and human, the only outlandish feature an ornate looking mirror in one corner. It reflected the steady, glowing orange light that came from an orb hanging from the ceiling.

Sypha listened. All they heard was the rustling of their own robes, the beating of their own heart, and the perpetual bickering of the incubi they'd left behind. Sypha took a breath and stepped into the room. This was their first place to search, and now Sypha had some inkling of the significance of the items they were looking for.

They scanned the bookshelves. One of the smaller items- the ring or the fang for instance, could be hidden easily between the dusty tomes. Searching them all would take more time than Sypha had. Better, they thought, to check the desk and mirror first. 

Sypha turned to look at the desk, and something caught their eye. There was a box on the chair, so dark that it fell into the shadows of the room. Sypha wouldn't have even seen it, except for a yellowing scrap of parchment on top of it. Sypha stepped forward, inspecting, and then gasped. They read their own name.

No. Sypha snatched up the parchment and held it out to the light. No. "For my beloved, Lisa." Lisa. Not Sypha. Of course not Sypha. Sypha shook their head. This castle was doing strange things to their perceptions already. 

Sypha gently set the parchment on the table. They considered the box. It was a simple lead square, barely larger than Sypha's outstretched hand. The latch on the side was iron.

This was an intrusion. Whatever was in this box was intended for a dead woman, gifted by a grieving man. But that was only one way to tell the story, a romantic read. This was an artifact left by a mad warlord who sought nothing less than the destruction of the human species. Sypha could not afford to fall for the dramatic narrative; there were too many people to save, too many lives lost already.

Sypha pressed their fingers to the iron latch. They shuddered. Waves of cold radiated up their fingers. They expected the pads of their hand to stick to the metal. But they were able to undo the latch with numb fingers. The lid creaked open.

"Oh," Sypha said. They took a step backwards.

Dracula's heart. It strained everything Sypha knew about the organ from their medical training. The thing was monstrous. It didn't look like flesh anymore. The ventricles were engorged and dark purple, and the arteries were like vertigreed copper wires wrapped too tight around the flesh. It didn't even smell like blood. Sypha sniffed, and caught the odor of dust and wine. Thirteen needles were buried into the right atrium. They glittered in the orange light. The aorta had been punctured, and it sat broken on the top of the organ like a ruined, meaningless crown.

What a horrible thing. What a perfect metaphor for the malignant immortality of the man Sypha needed to unmake. Sypha extended a hand. A flame no larger than a candle spluttered on one finger. They wanted to end it now. This organ was nothing except pain.

Sypha sighed. Instead, they slammed the lead box closed. They would accept this gift on Lisa's behalf, and end the suffering of the man who had ripped it out of himself. They would assemble Dracula piece by piece and find a way to end him for good. But first, Sypha had to find their companions. 

Sypha stepped back into the hall and swore. The pillars of ice they had cast stood empty, more lifeless statues among the marble and bronze. They should have killed the incubi when they'd had the chance. Even if they'd looked like Adrian and Trevor.

Sypha shook their head. This was what sentimentally earned them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One down, five to go. Not so bad, right? 
> 
> The heart and mouth tend to be the critical targets when slaying a vampire in folklore. Methods vary wildly between cultures. Why not jam a brick into the mouth to stop the bloodsucker's incessant chewing? Didn't work? Remove the heart, and stab it with needles, or boil it in wine, or burn it.
> 
> Dracula, apparently, resisted all of these. Did anyone try throwing a net at him to see if he'd count the knots? 
> 
> Folklore is fun. My love to everyone reading and commenting!! Happy new year.


	30. Nail (Is This Gruesome Enough?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING- body horror, graphic depiction of injuries, burn wounds, mutilation, feelings

Someone was laughing nearby. Trevor silently unwrapped his whip. His Belmont training hadn't necessarily warned him what ominous, girlish giggling in Dracula's castle meant. But it couldn't be good. Trevor slunk down the spiral staircase. He must have already stepped down hundreds of these damn steps today. Apparently Dracula's towers had declared war on Trevor's knees. 

"Whoever's down there," Trevor warned, "I'm armed and I don't like being laughed at."

The giggling got louder. Trevor checked his grip on his whip. It was a useful weapon if he could keep whatever he was fighting at a distance. In close quarters, like these claustrophobic stairways, the thing was barely better than his fists.

Trevor slipped out onto a landing. He looked around. No more damn stairs. Thank fuck. He spotted something white dashing away down a side hall. 

Trevor shrugged. His sense of direction was crap on a good day, and today he'd been dumped onto a magic platform in the middle of nowhere by death, or something. He was disoriented. He'd chase a giggly ghost down a few hallways until he came up with something better to do. Like find a decent weapon.

Trevor pelted down the hall. 

Definitely a ghost, Trevor decided. It was the way the creature seemed to keep itself just out of view, letting out torrents of laughter like cascades of rain as Trevor's main clue. He caught glimpses of her; a white, flowing nightdress and thick black hair. She was tall for a child, but something in the soft, pudginess of her hands still suggested youth. 

She wasn't something Trevor recognized from the good old bestiary. But ghosts were ghosts, and this creature he pursued outpaced him without making any footsteps, without pausing to breathe. 

"Hey, if you've been, like. Hideously murdered by Dracula. Or something? You ought to know. We hate the bastard too. We can work something out."

A new torrent of giggles. Trevor shook his head and barreled into a room full of portraits. He must have past a dozen adjoined passages and more than that many doors. But no monsters, except for this insufferable ghost.

Trevor gasped in a breath. He scanned the room. He was in a dead end, with no connecting hallways. He put his hands on his knees, trying to manage his heart rate and think. 

Well, a ghost could have just walked through the walls, right? 

"Shit," Trevor breathed. He looked around again, more slowly. Portraits looked back at him. He'd always thought his grandfather had been making that up, that the glassy eyes of the paintings followed you wherever you went. It was something he'd relished talking about, scaring Trevor and the other kids. Later, Trevor had rolled his eyes when the old man had prattled about so many gruesome details. Dracula had vanished from the world. His castle stood out at the edge of nowhere, haunting no one. It would never matter, if Trevor knew where the hidden passages were, what the monsters were like.

God, grandpa Belmont would be laughing at Trevor now. He should have listened to the stories.

Trevor's breathing settled down. But his heart rate was still a steady, insistent thud in his ears and shaking up his legs, and slamming into the cobblestone floor.

Oh. Not his heart rate then. Trevor pushed himself off his knees and looked around. Heavy footsteps were getting louder. Nearer. He found the over-large portrait of an iron-faced man in military uniform just as it started swinging forward. Of course.

The smell came to Trevor first. He gagged. Burnt hair, roasted fat and ash. It struck him. He stumbled back and drew his whip. One hand, emaciated and shiny with burns, wrapped itself around the frame.

"Tre. Vor."

Trevor's whip dropped to the ground. He knew his mother's voice, even if it sounded like she'd sucked far too much smoke out of a pipe. 

A second hand, really just charred bone, scrapped the edge of the stone wall. A third hand scraped on the floor, dragging itself into the light.

"Treffy," a second voice, just as distorted and rough, but unmistakable, echoed out of the passage way.

"Cass?" Trevor said. He took a step forward, towards his sister. Was that her hand, reaching out and fumbling for purchase on the stones? She sounded like she was in terrible, terrible pain. She was missing two fingers.

Trevor shook his head. He gulped, and took in more of the smell of cooked flesh and burned skin. No. His family was dead. Whatever was dragging itself out of this hidden passage into the light, whatever this thing was, it wasn't gonna be good.

A rasping version of his father's voice called out, "Trevor?"

Hands reached further out, revealing arms shimmering with oil burns where they weren't charred to bone. And the arms kept coming, five and then eight and then eleven reaching forward, dragging. Trevor heard flesh scrapping behind them.

"No," Trevor said. He put his hands over his ears as more members of his family, people whose names he hadn't even thought of this year, called out his name. They sounded so pained, so desperate, so familiar. 

"You're dead," Trevor said. It was just an illusion. It would go away. He shook his head, trying to free himself of the figment.

He was condemned. He was dirty. He was such an utter and complete failure, the dead end of a proud family line, their deeds and heroics and aspirations squandered on him. 

And here it all was, in front of him. If Dracula wanted to break Trevor, to grind his will and resolve into dust, here was the way. So many things hadn't destroyed him; hordes of monsters, the grueling mundanity of the road, being kicked out of city after city. He had survived.

"Y- you're not real," Trevor said. He tore his gaze away as the lumbering mass came out of the shadows. He didn't want to see. He clenched his eyes closed. "This is all a fucked up game Dracula's playing with us. You- you're dead. Just dead."

"Dead."

"Trevor."

"Dra. Cula."

"Stop it!" Trevor yelled. "Go away. You left me. To fester in this shit. Don't fucking haunt me now!"

He heard so many hands clawing on the stone floor, and the sickening, scraping squelch of skin peeling off onto the rough surface. The smell of ash and cooked meat and pitch got closer. Trevor wretched, sunk his hands between his knees. He would have thrown up if there was anything in his stomach. His insides fought the smell. Since when did illusions have smells?

A decidedly solid arm slammed into Trevor's shoulder. Another wrapped its bones around Trevor's wrist. A hand smeared pitch and burned fat into Trevor's hair. Another grabbed his chin. Trevor opened his eyes. 

They'd been burned together. All of them. Charred and melted and broiled into one mass. He recognized pieces; his elder brother's hair, his mother's shoulders. The hand around his chin was his sisters. 

Trevor's resolve crumpled. His hands fell to his sides and he stared blankly into all of the faces that had just been lost from his life one day. Just lost, and he had never gotten to make amends. How many times had he envisioned the pyre and all that had happened there, wondered where his families' graves were? All here, in Dracula's castle. 

A single face formed in the amalgamation. It had three jaws and just one hollow, burned eye. A nail was driven into its forehead. It called, "Join us."

Trevor recoiled, and felt ash and flecks of skin scrape off onto him. He stepped backward and ran into the wall. The Belmonts clawed forward. Trevor sobbed, "I can't, I can't."

They pressed hungry hands into Trevor's tunic. Someone ruffled his hair. He heard his mother laugh. "Tre. Vor."

"It hurts, Treffy."

"It burns."

"Get away from me," Trevor said. He tore horrible, comforting hands away from him. He gagged again. "I failed you. You hate me. You should hate me."

"Why don't you hate me?"

"You," his mother's voice said, "You are. All we have."

Trevor sunk his head into his knees. "I'm so sorry."

"Free. Us."

"I can't," Trevor said. He pulled at his hair. "I can't do anything."

"Let us sleep."

"Dracula's prisoners."

Trevor gulped. He raised his head, and in the streaming confusion all he could see was the features of his family, hopelessly smeared together. Everyone in front of him. "I can't hurt you."

"The nail."

"Won't hurt. From you."

Trevor blinked until his eyes were clear. The hideous, warped face was inches from his own. The charred eye socket faced him. Belmonts squeezed his arms, clumsily lifted his hand, pressed it to the nail.

Trevor flinched. The iron was cold. Everything else was warm, too warm, the feel of ash and flame still lingering, a year later everything still smouldering. But touching the rusted metal sent a cold pang of disgust through Trevor's body.

Why the fuck was this his burden? He was the youngest son. He could have just been a hunter, a nobody, maybe a sidekick in someone else's story, anyone but the hero. Why had he been dragged into this? He was cold and tired. He needed a drink. He needed to forget, not to remember every detail of his family and their deaths all twisted into one writhing, miserable ooze in front of him. 

He had tried so fucking hard to forget. And if he acted now? Trevor Belmont was going to remember.

"Dammit it all," Trevor said. He strengthened his shoulders and his resolve. He wrapped his fingers around the nail, gritting his teeth as waves of cold crystallized down his arm. "I'll remember for you. All of you. I'm sorry."

He wrenched the nail out. "I'm sorry."

The screaming was the worst of it. Hands brushing his face became the twisting of the wind as the whole form dissipated, collapsed in on itself. A last call, "Trevor, Treffy." Then the room was still. Trevor gasped, and only smelled the faintest whiff of smoke lingering on the air. He looked around. An empty room, one portrait still hanging slightly off the wall. Trevor opened his hand. A rusty, soot caked nail was in his palm.

Trevor sank his head back to his knees. He stayed there for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was easily the hardest "piece" of Vlad to conceptualize. In the games, the nail is usually held by Frankenstein's monster (often just called The Creature). That wasn't-- nearly interesting or emotionally painful enough. Then I remembered that the monster is just an amalgamation of reanimated corpses and, well,
> 
> I'm a terrible person.


	31. Chase (Adrian's revenge)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning- injuries, blood, blood drinking

The shade left little gifts for him outside the colosseum. Adrian entered the connected prison complex and heard Sypha and Trevor screaming for him. He tore forward, and saw them in a cell, bleeding and injured and calling for help. 

Adrian sniffed the air. They were bloodless figments. The Trevor the shade had summoned didn't leave a red tint of desire in Adrian's vision. They weren't real. Of course they weren't real. Trevor and Sypha were elsewhere and they were okay; they had to be okay. 

Adrian shook his head. Distractions. He couldn't afford them. He stormed down the corridor, blocking out the pleas of his allies. He saw the trailing edge of a black cloak slip through the door. 

The next corridor, it was his mother, sobbing quietly in a cell. Something from Adrian's nightmares. He hissed. How had the shade gotten so thoroughly into his head? He knew it was an illusion. He couldn't hear her heartbeat. And she couldn't be here. She was dead. 

Adrian kept running. He was getting closer. He could see the red light from underneath the shade's cloak. He gripped the sword he had stolen. This was going to be a difficult fight, but the shade had already used a lot of magic. He might be vulnerable. Adrian still had a bit of extra power left to him from Trevor's blood. It would give him an edge.

The next block of cells was mercifully empty. Adrian jaunted across the room just as the shade slipped through the door. He was so close he could smell the faint, eerie traces of ozone left in the spaces the shade displaced. 

He heard a heartbeat, erratic and fast as he entered the next hall. Something shifted in a nearby cell. Adrian sniffed the air. The smell of ozone was overshadowed by something else. He recognized it before he could give it a name, just a shadow of the same richness and luster that he had tasted on Trevor's blood. Belmont blood, or at least something similar to it.

"W-who's there?"

Adrian appeared at the cell bars. He slammed into them, and knew at he starred that his eyes were red again, his mouth open, his breathing ragged.

She didn't look like the captain of Arges anymore. Not with her helm missing, her short cropped salt and pepper hair mussed up, her armor covered in grime and soot.

Adrian growled. Yes, the shade had left him a gift, and a distraction he could not ignore. 

The human's eyes went wide. She crawled backwards. There was nowhere she could run, with solid stone so close behind her. She cradled her left arm, which bled sluggishly. There was the offering made to Adrian, a superficial little cut to sweeten the temptation. As though he could have ignored this. 

"Alucard," she said.

"Oh, you know my name now?" Adrian said. He traced his hands over the iron bars. It was dreamlike, being on the other side, staring her down, tasting her pain and her fear on the air. “I thought I was just 'vampire'?"

"I didn't," the captain said, "We couldn't have known."

"You had a chance to demonstrate any of the values that my mother believed redeemed humanity. A sense of fairness, or mercy, decency, even." He reached for the lock. 

"Y-your mother?"

"I take it the fight did not go well?" Adrian said. 

"I don't know," the captain said, "I was grabbed and carried off."

"A pity," Adrian said, "You have so many of the best, worst qualities of a Belmont. You held Arges. I don't think anyone less could have"

The city would not survive without her. Did Adrian care, with hate and thirst pounding in his ears? Or did he want to see this city leveled, like his father had leveled Targoviste? Certainly, some part of him did, and that part was very loud right now.

"I- I didn't know you were only half."

Adrian slammed his fist into the lock. It snapped off the door. "You knew my pain and you laughed at it. You served me up to a mob."

He opened the cell door slowly. Relishing. Wasn't this how he had advised his father? Find the man who did the deed. Or, the woman in this case. Was a private bit of revenge unforgivable? Adrian leaned into his thirst. He could control it, bask in it, live in the reflected light of the feeling of imminent satisfaction.

No one had to know. Not Sypha or Trevor. Not his mother or father. Just death, somewhere close nearby, who would know he'd taken the bait. He wanted to kill her for what she had done.

"You knew it wouldn't stop me feeding."

The captain gulped. She nodded.

"It wouldn't make me safe, harmless. Just humiliated."

She tried to rise and Adrian kicked her back to the ground.

"I don't even need a blade to kill you," Adrian said. He reached forward and grabbed her throat. "I can throttle you right now."

The captain pushed against his grip. It was a measly attempt. She couldn't even tear his fingers off her neck. Her movements sent her arm bleeding harder, inviting.

Adrian closed his eyes. 

He would know. Even if no one else in the world did, even if she deserved it. He would know what he had done, this place where he had crossed the line that divided him from Dracula's forces. He would know the dark with some new, terrifying intimacy.

Adrian stared down at the captain. She wasn't weeping or pleading with him. She stared back at him with the cold eyes of someone who has already accepted death. He smelled her grief again. Her face didn't invite mercy. It expected nothing.

They had all been refugees. Every member of that mob who'd been so hungry for his subjugation. They had all suffered, all seen horrors, and maybe seeing one of those horrors stripped down and humiliated had given them some hope that they could overcome it. Or maybe she was just fucking awful. Maybe humanity didn't deserve to be saved. Adrian didn't care. He couldn't do it.

Instead, Adrian gripped the captain's bleeding arm. He lifted it to his nose and licked up the blood. His magic would be enough to keep the wound from festering. 

Adrian let go of her neck. He leaned back, reeling at the high of imbibing blood. He'd gotten to take something from her at least. 

The captain lay in a heap under him. She was waiting, he supposed, for the next attack. 

Adrian grabbed the torn sleeve that had been cut through to bleed her. He ripped the fabric off and then did what he had seen Sypha do. He spread the cloth flat. He set it over the cleaned wound. Adrian tied it firmly around her arm. 

"Listen to me," he said, "there is a set of stairs down this hallway. Take it, head as far down as you can, and turn left. There's a false wall at the end of the corridor. Push through it, and you'll get to the main hall. You'll be able to exit."

He sighed and pressed the sword into her hand. "Whatever you hear, keep running. Only fight if you have to."

He stood back and gestured for the open door.

"Why?" the captain asked.

Adrian gritted his teeth, "Because Arges needs to survive this. And you're the person who can protect it."

Which was easier than saying, 'Because I cannot become my father'. 

She stood up. She glared at him.

"You are confusing."

Adrian bowed her through the door.

When he heard her steps fade into the next room, he called, "Alright, Death, anything else you have for me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Not super happy with this chapter, tbh, but I think it's needed to tie up a few things.
> 
> Sypha's next. Should be fun.
> 
> Also, THANKS EVERYONE! The response to the last chapter was amazing for me!! Your comments and feedback and support give me life! My love to everyone!


	32. Ring (Sypha is NOT READY)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning- pregnancy (yup. And also nope. It's fine. I promise it's fine.)

Sypha passed the same statue four times before admitting to themselves that they were lost. On the fifth pass, they swore and the curse echoed through the hall. 

Sypha was still in the long, marble gallery. They'd investigated the alchemy laboratory, finding beakers, vials and a strange orb that was the source of the static. But they hadn't found any more artifacts. Meanwhile, Dracula's heart lay heavy and cold in their arms. Sypha was afraid to put it down. They swore they felt it beating against the leaden lid.

Sypha shook their head. It was a dead organ. This castle was just a building. The demons were just monsters. They could handle this. 

They focused on the statue. It was unmistakable, a cloaked marble figure being crushed by an imposing cross. 

Sypha heard thumping nearby. They immediately clutched at the lead box. But the heart was still, unmoving, inside it. The sounds weren't that close yet. They were just getting closer, and louder.

Sypha hissed as the statue in front of them groaned. It ground into the floor. They took a step back and prepared a spell in their free hand. They clutched Dracula's heart to their chest, hoping the beating they felt was just their own, elevated pulse. Something, or someone, was stepping out of the dark passageway behind the statue.

A weary human staggered out. Sypha made to dismiss their spell, and then recognized the woman in the dirty armor. 

The captain raised her head. She chuckled bitterly. "I would run into both of you, wouldn't I?"

Sypha narrowed their eyes. If this was an incubus again, they hadn't chosen a form that would inspire mercy. Sypha raised their arm, spell still in hand. "I should smite you where you stand."

The captain shrugged. Sypha noticed she was cradling a bandaged injury on one arm. "Maybe. The dhampir didn't though."

"Adrian?" Sypha said, "Where is he? Is he okay?"

The captain grimaced. "Is that what you call him? He found me up in some prison complex. He's- fine? Scary when he wants to be."

"He let you go?" Sypha demanded.

The captain nodded, "Guess I'm the one who can save Arges. Or something."

Sypha sighed. They clenched their fist and the spell faded with a last hiss. Adrian hadn't killed her. Sypha wasn't going to.

Behind the captain, Sypha saw dust rising. The statue was steadily shifting closed behind her. Sypha didn't have time for this.

"A prison complex?" Sypha asked, pushing past the captain. "Where?"

"Back up the corridor," she said, "there's about a hundred damned flights of stairs."

"Right," Sypha said. They jabbed a finger down the marble gallery. "Exit's that way. There are two incubi running around. Try not to die, I guess."

"Thanks," the captain said dryly.

Sypha shook their head. The passageway behind the statue was closing fast, too fast from them to scream what they wanted to scream at the captain. They slipped into the shadows instead.

 

An hour later, Sypha wondered bitterly if it had been a disguised incubus after all. They got to another landing and slumped down onto the floor, gasping for breath. They were dizzy and lightheaded. They put a hand on their stomach, trying to settle the pangs of hunger. 

If they had known it would take this long, they would have brought supplies. But Adrian's descriptions of kitchens and larders had given Sypha hope that they wouldn't have to steal more food from the people of Arges. Again, there was that soft heartedness betraying them.

"What I get, listening to the one who doesn't eat," Sypha said. They summoned a small shard of ice and let it melt into the warmth of their hand. At least they had water. This was still better than things had been in the barracks.

Evening was descending and shadows hissed around Sypha. The dark breathed. It whispered half-formed incantations. Sypha shivered. They were abruptly cold, and it wasn't just the cool water in their palm. 

Sypha needed somewhere to rest; preferably to sleep. And soon. They had hoped to find Adrian. But there was no sign of him, or the prison complex. Just stairs. Hissing shadows. Windows that flashed with attentiveness like staring eyes. This place was consuming everything. As night encroached, Sypha felt like Dracula's castle would swallow them whole.

Then the giggling started. Sypha stumbled upright. They should summon a spell, but they had one hand holding Dracula's heart, and the other clutching their aching stomach. Girlish laughter floated towards them from the floor above.

Sypha stumped up the stairs. "Who's there?"

Ahead, they heard light footfalls. They were moving away from Sypha. Sypha turned for the second set of stairs and noted the shadows of a figure flowing away from the light source casting it back to them. Whatever, whoever it was, they were wearing a cloak or a dress. Sypha had to remind themselves that Adrian probably didn't have a giggle that high pitched.

They reached the landing and found it empty. But Sypha could guess where the figure had gone. There was a door at the other side of the simple, square room. It was ajar. Above the door, a grand, circular window showed that night had descended. With the bright moon shining through, it was like an inverted eye, black with a white iris. 

Still clutching their stomach, Sypha pushed through the door and into the night.

Sypha gasped.

He was just a part of the night sky for a moment. A tall figure in a trailing black cape, almost like Trevor's awful, smelly cloak. Black hair, and some immeasurable dark radiating from his countenance.

No. This was wrong. This was very, very wrong. It couldn't be him. He had torn himself to pieces. Sypha held one of them in their arms. Sypha looked down, and became even more confused. The lead box was gone. They had both hands pressed to their stomach, which was wide and round, protruding from a wine colored dress finer than anything Sypha had worn in their life.

"Vlad," Sypha heard themselves call out, in a voice that was not their own.

Dracula turned. "Lisa."

Sypha starred. They'd expected a monster. But there was so much of Adrian in Dracula's face; not just the grey skin, but the sensitive shape of his eyes, the thin but expressive lips, the low, happy laugh as he stepped forward and opened his arms. "You are well?"

"I'm fine. Just restless."

Dracula gulped. He paused, and the hesitance in his hands was, again, so distinctly like Adrian. Lisa was the one who took his fingers into her own and squeezed them. "I know what you said. That I should travel. See the world. Walk among ordinary men. Learn of them."

"As well you should," Lisa said.

Sypha felt the words coming out of their mouth. They were Lisa. And Adrian was here too, they realized. This was a memory, or a spell. It was just an illusion. But it was an illusion Sypha felt, as the baby inside Lisa's abdomen kicked.

Dracula looked down. He got to his knees and put a hand on Lisa's belly. "I can hear a heartbeat," he said, "I can- they have a heartbeat."

Lisa put a hand on Dracula's shoulder.

He sighed and looked back up. His eyes were black, glittering in the dark. He fumbled for something in his cloak.

"Lisa, until this child is born, and their nature understood, would- would you be content to keep me?"

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"This castle," Dracula said, "and everything in it. Me, and my heart. Would you accept it all, Lisa? Would you have me?"

He opened his hand. A silver ring glinted in the moonlight.

Lisa smiled. "Can you ask me like a man asks?"

Dracula's lip twitched. "Would you marry me, Lisa of Lupu?"

"Yes."

He fumbled as he put the ring on her finger.

"Vlad," Lisa said. She moved her hand, putting it under his chin. Dracula, understanding, rose to his feet. She embraced him, with her ringed hand on his chest. They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of a baby pressed between them.

Lisa chuckled. She eyed the simple, gleaming wedding band. "Why silver, of all things?"

Dracula laughed with her. "Because, dearest, you have reminded me what it is like to be just a man. And it is a far sweeter thing than I recalled."

Inside her- their- mind, Sypha found themselves struggling vaguely. It was like they were submerged in water and fighting with cold limbs to surface. They gasped, tore themselves out of the embrace.

"I'm not Lisa," they yelled into the night.

Sypha blinked. The night around them was empty. They stood alone on a long, narrow battlement, with towers on either side. The moon watched them.

Sypha looked down. They were in their Speakers robes. They clutched a lead box to their mercifully flat stomach. Something on their left hand glinted in the light.

Sypha shivered. They had a plain, silver band on their second leftmost finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, one of the thing that I like about CV is how it sets up foils- Trevor to Dracula, Sypha to Lisa (especially visually). With the small caveat that I do not ship Sypha and Trevor together. At all. Unless Alucard is involved too. *shrug* So I thought it would be fun to lean into that for Sypha- them taking Lisa's place. I'm sure they're having a great time with it.
> 
> Meet Dracula, everyone. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of him. Eventually.
> 
> Three artifacts down. Three to go. That means we're half way there!! Thanks everyone for the kudos and comments!! I am writing and editing the final stretch of chapters and you guys are keeping me going!


	33. Eye (Death is a jerk)

Of course Adrian would find the shade here. He should have known, should have expected this from the beginning. Like his father, Death would have his jokes. Time, a carefully constructed farce to immortal beings.

The hall around Adrian echoed with the ticks of so many metal hands. Gears clicked together. This had been his favorite game once. Run from stately grandfather clock to clock, hunting for the one his father had adjusted. Find it, reset it, hear the nearby door grinding open. A young Adrian would laugh and run down the steps, into his father's arms.

Was he immortal?

Adrian shrugged. He scanned the clocks, listening for an off beat, looking for a mismatched hand. He was so vampiric it seemed possible. Perhaps he would stay this age forever, perpetually just a young man. Or maybe he would age endlessly until he was withered to nothing, but still alive.

And, if he wasn't? If he was mortal? Well, then Death would win, in the end. He just couldn't let him win today.

Adrian sneered when he found the clock the shade had meddled with. It was the obvious choice, a newer, mahogany, simple timepiece that could be adjusted by the mechanism in the back. Adrian shifted the dial in the back board, adjusting his ears to listen for the slight click that meant it had realigned with the others, and the passageway would open.

There had been good times here. Most of his happy memories were with his mother, but his father had tried. Even if that meant his fear had taught Adrian to worry about his own instincts. He had always been removed, as though the man behind his mask was a monster. Now, all of that humanizing work by his mother had been undone, and the monster was plain to see, loose in the castle and the world.

And the thing he could do to honor his mother and her work; her work, not just on his father but as a doctor and in the world at large; the way that he could make some small amends for his own failures; was to put an end to his father's grief. First, though, he faced the small obstacle of killing Death.

Adrian heard a click. In the distance, something slid open.

Adrian loosened his shoulders. Now came the challenge. He wished he had his sword. He would have to find another way of fighting. He closed his eyes and felt a howl echo up his torso, into his throat, and through his body. He hunched down onto all fours. The eerie smell of the shade was pungent now, assaulting his more sensitive nose. Adrian padded towards the central chamber between the rows of clocks, following the corrosive scent. He growled when an empty, black cloak floated up the stairs.

"If you had bled her dry, you might have stood a chance," the shade informed him.

Adrian snarled. He leaned back, considering his first pounce.

"Cease this foolishness, boy," the shade said. Purple light coalesced beneath its cloak. "Come back to us. Ours is the only world to which you will ever belong."

Adrian charged. He passed straight through whatever purple spell the shade was casting. Decay, stronger even than the smell of ozone, burned into his nose. Adrian sunk both claws into its cloak. He heard fabric rip.

The shade dislodged him like an irksome bur, and Adrian fell down the stairs, deeper into the clock room. He sniffed, forcing the smell out of his snout. He shook off the bumps and looked back up the stairs.

The shade descended after him. The purple spell burst out in a sharp, diagonal line. The top most end spread and then curled downwards. The spell solidified into wood and metal. The shade didn't need to materialize fully, didn't need to provide Adrian any useful, solid flesh to target in order to wield its scythe. It floated out in front of the shade, scrapping the stone wall.

Adrian circled, hunting for an opening and a weakness. All he could see was the red light under the hood of the cape, far out of his reach in this form. Maybe as a bat, he could fly up to it. But that form was particularly fragile. He would be torn apart by a single swing of the scythe.

The scythe swished dizzyingly in front of it, ever following Adrian's pacing across the steps. Adrian caught an uneven bit of stonework in the stairway. He faltered. The scythe slashed forward. It caught Adrian's side.

Adrian yelped and tumbled backwards. He rolled down another half-flight of stairs. These were less than ideal fighting conditions. He just had to give the captain a sword, hadn't he? If only he had his own.

Adrian picked himself back onto all fours. His side stung, but he already felt the skin knitting back together. He shook his muzzle. If this was where the shade was hiding, the equipment it had stolen must be nearby. The sword his mother had gifted him could be close.

He stole a glance backward. A side passage split off at the end of the next flight of stairs. Adrian just needed to get down there, preferably without being thrown. He was tired of falling down the stairs.

He heard the shade laughing.

"What, do you think the humans will keep you?"

Adrian faced the shade and slowly backed down the steps. Make it look like he was retreating. Which-- he was.

"That the Belmont will keep you?"

Adrian growled. He felt his hackles rising.

The scythe hissed through the air between them.

The shade crooned. "Maybe as a pet-- a harmless, neutered dog."

Adrian beared all the teeth he still had. He lunged. He wanted to rip the damned cape to shreds and see if there was anything solid underneath. He latched himself, claws and teeth, into the fabric.

Pain seared across Adrian's back. He felt the dark energy in the shade's scythe. This time the blow was not glancing. It sunk deep into him. Unlife crackled down his spine. He howled as the corrupted metal hit his spine and soul. Purple color flooded into the blurry scene. The smell of ozone and decay was overwhelming. Suddenly, Adrian was not in control. He felt his jaw unhinge against his will.

He fell. Again. He seemed to roll for a very long time, the harsh edges of the stairs catching his partially healed side and particularly the new wound on his back. He couldn't move his paws to slow himself. If he'd been human, the blow would have killed him. But he wasn't, and he had fought off the shade's paralyzing compulsions before.

_Adrian._

The voice called to him from the void at the edge of the stairs, from the other side of the blinding, swirling purple obscuring his vision. Adrian felt his name in his ears, a weight in his chest, a lump in his throat at the way it was spoken. By a woman's voice. Her voice, calling him.

His paws twitched. Feeling returned to Adrian's limbs, and most of the feelings were painful. He picked himself up at the bottom of the stairs. From above, he heard the shade curse. Adrian shook the last of its compulsion out of his mind. He limped backwards, into the side passage. He felt a presence humming nearby; something familiar and comforting that had called to him. Adrian wanted nothing more than to run to it, embrace the memory and the gift. He stumped away instead, whimpering.

"Very well then. You have chosen death," the shade said. It descended, getting nearer. Adrian heard the scrap of the scythe.

Adrian gulped. He swallowed the howl; the soul of the wolf in him. He returned to his human form. He could still feel the foul magic creeping under his skin. But he could ignore the injuries for now.

"No weapons then? What will you do? Nibble at me?"

Adrian pressed his cloak around him. He brought his palms together and tried to remember what he had done before, in the cell with Trevor and Sypha. There had been so much fear in him. So much pain. He could find that well enough now.

"Hiding like a frightened child?"

Adrian raised his hand, extending the edge of his cloak almost lazily. Three fireballs hurtled out. They converged on the shade greedily, licking up the ripped fabric.

The shade hissed as its cloak was eaten away. The stuff burned like paper, releasing purple smoke. The smoke filtered up the stairs, revealing a much simpler form. The thing hovering above Adrian was just an orb now, flickering red and malicious in the dark room. It was smaller than Adrian's fist.

"So that's all you really are," Adrian said.

The shade slashed the scythe at him. Adrian jaunted away and reached out his hands. His mother's sword flew forward from the other room. He felt it call his name. Something cracked. There was a scream that petered out into a malignant hiss.

Adrian caught the sword, and inspected the shade's eye, impaled by the blade. The red light crackled, clinging to life within the tiny orb. It spluttered, and faded to nothing. The eye went dim. It was done.

Adrian sighed. He wrapped his hand around the eye. It sent a shard of cold up his arm, and with it, his father's voice.

_I will take from you everything you have, and everything you have ever been._

Adrian shuddered. This was how the shade had known so many details he thought private. He had been given a piece of Dracula. The Lisa that Adrian had seen in the prison cell had not been from his nightmares, but from his father's. He shook his head. He tucked the eye away. He sheathed the sword his mother had given him. That, at least, was a memory all his own. He crossed the hall to collect whatever else the shade had stolen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously I enjoy doing mean things to vampires. And now I have to add "knocking them down stairs" to that list of mean things.
> 
> Also death is a jerk. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting! *showers people in biodegradable glitter*
> 
> Also, updates may be irregular for a bit here. My laptop crapped out.


	34. Countess Mircalla Karnstein

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW- night terrors, misgendering

So maybe falling asleep in Dracula's castle was a bad idea. Sypha had tried to be cautious. They'd gone on walking until their legs felt like piles of stones. Finding a side room study, much like the one in the marble gallery, but with an inviting looking couch instead of a chair, should have instantly piqued Sypha's suspicion.

Instead, they had slumped into it gratefully. They would just lay down for a moment. Rest their eyes. They'd always been a light sleeper. Sypha tucked their knees into under their robes, and wrapped their arms around the lead box.

The dream opened up around them, starting as a dark nexus of cold in their chest and spreading out until it swallowed them. Sypha twitched in their sleep. Night terrors. They'd had them before. Their eyes would open in the waking dream. They would see the smouldering campfire and the peaceful wagons of the Speakers, but the sky above them was littered with hungry, green eyes that dripped down, threatening to consume them. 

This time, when Sypha opened their eyes, it was a hulking figure made of shadows. It slipped into the room, padding over the hearthrug in the center, and approached the couch. The shadows were feline in shape, but far too large, stretching up over Sypha.

Sypha blinked, trying to remember how they had made these visions pass in childhood. They couldn't. It was so real. The red eyes of the monstrous cat met their own, glassy with sleep. It opened its mouth, showing two white teeth like needles.

Sypha screamed. They threw themselves upright on the couch. They shook their vision clear. No. Just a terror. No giant cats in the room. 

"Dearest, what a terrible burden for you to bear."

"What?" Sypha said. They turned their head. "Who's there?"

Nearby, someone giggled. A young woman stood at the foot of the couch. Her thick black hair hung down around her face. She was wearing a white, flowing nightdress. 

Sypha gulped. They summoned a flame. "Who are you?"

The woman's lip curled. "Countess Karnstein," she said, "But you can call me Mircalla."

She was pale in the flickering flame light, and she seemed solid. A vampire, perhaps? Sypha narrowed their eyes. 

"What do you mean, a burden?"

Mircalla giggled again. She pointed a pudgy finger at the box clutched in Sypha's hand. "The old man's heart. You don't want it."

"It," Sypha began. They shuddered, feeling the box rattle in their hold. It was beating. It was alive. "It was prophesied to me."

"And who knows better than a Speaker the flimsiness of such proclamations?"

"Wait," Sypha said, "I heard you laughing. You led me to the ring. Why?"

"So you could fetch it for me, dear."

Mircalla rested her hand on the edge of the couch. Her fingers trailed along the brocade as she stepped closer. She pulled her hair out of her face with her other hand, and the full weight of her drowsy, languid eyes pressed into Sypha.

Sypha shook at the exhaustion. They recognized the spell in it, the way Mircalla was trying to drag them back into sleep. The flame in their hands flickered sleepily, and petered out.

"Stop it," Sypha said. They uncurled their legs and swung them off the bed. They should run. Why hadn't they run before?

In a flash of white cotton, Mircalla was on top of them. She was impossibly heavy, the weight of sleep and death suffocating Sypha. She straddled Sypha's knees. 

"Dearest, what would you ever want with a man's heart?" 

Sypha clutched the box to their chest with both hands. 

Mircalla smiled. She ran a soft hand through Sypha's hair. 

"Y-you know nothing of what I want," Sypha hissed, "Nothing about me."

Mircalla tilted her head. She grinned, showing two needle-fine teeth in her small mouth. "Perhaps. Are you just another scholarly maiden who wandered into Dracula's castle? Who enraptured the man, claimed his love and his heart, bore him a child?"

"What?" Sypha said. They tore their head out of Mircalla's hold. Everything about her was drowsy, down to the smell of chamomile that lingered everywhere she touched Sypha.

Mircalla raised her gaze to the eves of the room. Sypha was freed for a moment. They summoned a ball of energy in their hand, concealed behind the lead box. Then Mircalla returned her eyes to them. She smiled.

"Had you not guessed? This castle thinks you are the next Lisa. That you will return Dracula to this world."

"Return him to this world?" Sypha repeated, blinking hard to keep her eyes from closing.

Mircalla rested a hand on the lead box. "This was how he summoned his night hordes. Split himself to pieces, cast himself into hell, an immortal, broken portal spewing demons into Wallachia. His grief, his rage, his pain, his love. What would you do with all that?"

Sypha gulped. 

"Give them to me," Mircalla sang. She tapped her nails into the lead box, and the force of her languor stilled the awful heart. "The heart. The ring. You shouldn't bear them."

She pried at Sypha's fingers. Her touch was numbing like poppy. She eased Sypha's grip loose around the box. "Give them. To me."

Sypha's eyelids flickered. "No."

She leaned her face in, until her eyes were an inch from Sypha's. Her lips were so close to Sypha's cheek that they felt her breathing. "How could you possibly manage this thing? You are neither his son nor his enemy-- just a common born girl, playing with magics. You have no right to his gifts!"

She tore the box out of Sypha's hold. Sypha raised the hand the box had covered. They grabbed Mircalla's face and buried it in fire. 

Mircalla shrieked. She staggered backwards, clutching her smouldering face. She vanished with a hiss. 

Sypha stood. They brushed ash and the smell of camomile and the feel of poppy off of their body. They looked down at the lead box, which had toppled onto the floor.

Sypha snarled and kicked it. Hearing the lifeless lead slam into the back wall was less satisfying than they'd hoped.

"I'm not a girl," Sypha said, "I'm not Lisa." They spoke to no one. Mircalla did not return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet my favorite vampire in all of classic literature. Also our villain. Cause Death is dead now, right? Definitely dead and not coming back in any way. : P
> 
> Thanks to everyone leaving comments and kudos! I have approximately four chapters left to write (more to edit and post) and am running into very strong afraid-to-finish-things blocks. You all are what are going to get me to finish this ridiculous project.
> 
> Also, alsoalso I AM TO EXCITED TO POST NEXT WEEKS CHAPTERS!!! Hoping to have a functional computer set up by then.


	35. Reunited (Adrian and Trevor FINALLY Talk)

Trevor heard the footsteps just in time. They echoed down the long, connected hallway. He readied the chair leg he'd found and inched to the corner. He saw the shadow of the figure at it strode through the sconce lit room.

At the last possible moment, Trevor rushed into view, raising his makeshift club. "All right you giggly ghost thing. Come and-- oh,"

He screeched to a halt and redirected his swing so that it passed, harmlessly, over Adrian's shoulders.

"Trevor?" Adrian said. His hand was still on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

"Thank fuck, finally," Trevor said. He took a step forward.

Adrian took a step back.

"I," he gulped, "I've seen phantoms everywhere. Is- is that really you?"

"Course it's me."

"That's what a ghost would say."

"Huh," Trevor said. He shrugged. He tossed the chair leg aside and held up his hands. "I'm solid, Adrian. Come and check."

Adrian stepped forward. He pressed a hand to Trevor's chest. Then he squeezed Trevor into a hug. He felt real. One of his soft curls tickled Trevor's nose. "You're okay!"

"Hey," Trevor said, "How do I know you're not, like, something else disguised as Adrian. Uhh- what's something only you and I know?"

Adrian loosened his grip. He held Trevor's sides. The corner of his lip twitched. Gently, Adrian pushed up the left sleeve of Trevor's tunic. He bent over and kissed the just visible, pink mark on Trevor's forearm.

"Oh, yeah," Trevor said. As though goosebumps weren't spreading up his arm.

"Adrian?"

Adrian took a deep breath. He looked up.

Trevor took his free, trembling hand and pushed the heavy curtains of Adrian's hair out of his face. He traced the edge of Adrian's jaw with his fingers. Adrian leaned into the touch and his eyes met Trevors. Trevor felt want in his stomach-- lower than his stomach. If they were going to die in this castle anyway, if no one was here to see or to judge him, even if this could still somehow be an illusion or a trick, he just wanted. Desperately.

Adrian rose. Trevor adjusted his grip, holding the back of Adrian's head. He used his other hand to grab Adrian's waist and pull him in. Adrian put both hands on Trevor's chest. He gulped. 

"May I?"

"Yeah."

Adrian leaned in and brushed his lips into Trevor's. The hunger in Trevor's stomach sloshed. It was about to boil over. He pressed his lips to Adrian's. Opening his mouth slightly, he explored the softness of Adrian's bottom lip.

"Trevor," Adrian moaned. He tapped his hand to Trevor's chest. "W-we can't. Not here."

"I found a safe room, I think," Trevor said, "It's this way." He unwound his arms from around Adrian, just holding onto his hand as though he was afraid he'd disappear again if he let him go. 

"Nothing is like I remember it," Adrian said, "I wouldn't know what's safe anymore."

"Here," Trevor said. He picked up his makeshift club and nodded down the side passage he'd tried to ambush from. Adrian laughed when he saw the door Trevor pointed to.

"This is my room, Trevor. What is my room doing by the outer wall?"

"Really? Wait, this was your bedroom?" Trevor said. 

Adrian opened the door. He looked inside. "Yes. It- it hasn't been touched." He wrinkled his nose. "Except someone destroyed my favorite chair."

"Oh, did they?" Trevor said. He hastily hid the chair leg behind his back. 

Adrian glared at him. "Here. Instead of mangling my property." He reached into his cloak. He presented Trevor his sword. 

"Oh thank fuck!" Trevor said. He took it, tested the weight to make sure the blade was real, and slid into into his scabbard. "Where did you find it?"

Adrian smirked. He closed the door behind them. "Oh, I fought death in a concealed room of clocks."

"Huh," Trevor said. He shrugged. Sounded like some vampire nonsense. 

"And, here," Adrian continued. He handed Trevor a practical bouquet of daggers. "Why do you have so many of these?"

"Gotta be prepared."

"Ah. Is that why you destroyed my chair as well? Isn't your whip a sufficient weapon?"

"Sometimes you have to stake something," Trevor said.

"And you were planning on staking Dracula with a chair leg?"

"Maybe."

Adrian sighed. Trevor realized his irritation was not at him."It's strange to be here. I guess this is home, but-" He crossed the room and slumped onto the bed. "Everything is wrong."

"Adrian?" Trevor said. He sat beside him, trying to think of something comforting or appropriate to say when his brain was still mostly in his pants. "Why do you have a bed?" He winced. Great, comforting words indeed.

"Oh, well, they're nice for, you know, lounging, and reading."

"And jacking off?" 

Adrian sniffed. "I'm not dignifying that."

"So, yes, is what you're saying."

Adrian sighed. "Trevor?" he said. They were sitting next to each other and Adrian's hand had somehow ended up in Trevors again. "You've only been with men before, right?"

"Fucking hell," Trevor said. He bolted off the bed, leaving Adrian's hold. He put his head in his hands and ground his teeth together. "How did you--? that I'm--? am I that fucking--? fuck."

"Trevor?" Adrian asked.

Trevor squeezed his hands through his hair, looking anywhere around the room except at Adrian. "I-- tried, okay? I tried to be into women and I'm just, not."

"Women?" Adrian said. "Wait. Trevor-- men. Humans. You've only been with humans, right?"

"Oh. Shit. Yeah," Trevor said. He didn't raise his head. He started to laugh. God, had he ever just gotten to come out to someone, without the truth gaping open under him like unstable ground and tumbling through. "Yeah, just humans."

Adrian sighed. "Is it such a terribly shameful thing?"

"The church came after my family for it," Trevor said. He hadn't been able to admit that before. It felt like ripping off a bandage and airing a festered wound.

"Going after Belmonts was a political power ploy," Adrian said, "like going after my mother. It had nothing to do with you."

Trevor shrugged. "You dunno that."

Adrian stood-- Trevor heard the bed springs shift. He put a hand on Trevor's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

Trevor curled into himself, away from Adrian's touch. 

"It's not your fault."

He put his other hand on Trevor's shoulder.

"It's not your fault and you're going to hurt your injuries if you stay curled like that," Adrian said.

"Why is this so much easier for you?" Trevor demanded. He swatted at Adrian's hands. The movement didn't dislodge Adrian's hold, but Adrian let him go a second after. Trevor turned around and jabbed a finger into Adrian's chest. 

Adrian sighed. "Look, Trevor. I've seen a lot of dark things, okay? I know what sins are. I know what parts of me I need to be ashamed of. This isn't one of them."

"You make it sound simple," Trevor said. 

"I'm sorry. Obviously you've been through hell."

"What about you?" Trevor asked. 

"Me?"

"Have you been with men before? Or women? Or humans? Or demons? Or, I don't know."

A smile played around Adrian's lips. "I've never 'been' with anyone."

"Fuck. Does that mean-- when I gave you blood--?"

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "It depends entirely on whether you think of blood drinking as sexual."

"Do you?"

Adrian shrugged. "No. It's just hunting."

"But, for some vampires it is," Trevor said.

"And for some vampires everything is just the hunt and bloodlust and the thrill of the kill," Adrian said, "Trevor, do you realize how uncanny it is? You know my instincts better than I do."

Trevor licked his lips. "Adrian?"

"Yes?"

"Can I try something really stupid?" Trevor asked. He slipped Adrian's cloak off of his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story. I'm a lesbian. These two chapters (especially the next one) took me literal weeks to write. I thought I was gonna lose my mind. I actually started writing another fic just cause this was moving so slowly.
> 
> If you think you know where the next chapter is going-- you are absolutely right. I'm gonna be adding some *ehem* new tags on Thursday.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated here! This is not my wheelhouse and I've been a nervous wreck about my writing in general lately.


	36. Not All Vampires Suck Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW- teasing, oral sex, smut

Trevor slammed him into the wall. It was reassuring, somehow. When Adrian had imagined intimacy between a human and a vampire, all he could think of was delicacy. Something fragile and soft that he could break by accident, just by holding too tightly or twisting something in the wrong direction. Trevor didn't seem interested in letting Adrian get a hold on him at all. He pressed Adrian's shoulders into the paneling. Adrian's breath caught in his throat. Trevor sank his body into Adrian's and rested his face in the enticing curve where Adrian's neck met his shoulder. 

For Adrian, this was the illusion of vulnerability. He could break Trevor's pin easily if he wanted to. But he kept his hands at his sides. It felt safer. 

Trevor kissed the sensitive skin between Adrian's shoulder blade and the start of his neck. He was warm, a wonderful cascade of hot breath on Adrian's skin. Adrian could feel his heartbeat in all the usual places, and also between his legs as he thrust himself into Adrian's thigh. Trevor explored with his lips, and then ran his tongue along a line up Adrian's neck, like he was appraising him, tasting him.

Adrian groaned. The strained desire got caught in the noise, in the press of their chests against each other. Trevor responded with a growl. He paused for a second, opened his mouth, and sunk his teeth into Adrian's neck.

Adrian gasped. He grabbed at Trevor's hips. 

Trevor gripped Adrian's neck, firmly, but in an open hand that wouldn't block his airways. Adrian would have laughed at the consideration, but he got distracted when Trevor tilted his head roughly to one side. He'd found a stretch of canvas to sink bit marks into.

"You're delicious," Trevor said. He bit again.

Adrian moaned. "T-this isn't fair."

Trevor chuckled. "What, that I get to bite and you don't?"

"No," Adrian said, the word becoming higher pitched as Trevor bit again, "I mean, you still have all your clothes on."

"You've seen me shirtless," Trevor said. 

"And you've seen me stripped down to literally nothing," Adrian said. He tugged the edge of Trevor's tunic out of his pants. 

"Poor thing," Trevor said. He pressed his weight further into Adrian. "If it makes you feel better, I wasn't looking."

"Maybe a little."

Trevor sunk his hand into the sides of Adrian's neck. The pressure sent a shiver up Adrian's spine. Adrian groaned into his fingers. "Are- are you always so rough with your lovers?"

"No," Trevor growled. He adjusted his hold on Adrian's neck and bit into a new spot. "You're special."

"Lucky me," Adrian said. He tried to speak coldly, but his usually slow blood was betraying him. He'd started to heat up. He ground his crotch vaguely against Trevor's hip. 

He gasped when Trevor let him go. His breath caught, and he looked up. Had he done something wrong?

Trevor bit his lip. He shrugged off his tunic. Adrian had seen this before, but he could better appreciate Trevor's body when he knew he was in his right mind. He was olive-skinned and well built, with lean and wiry muscles running across up his arms. The lower half of his chest was wrapped in bandages, and Adrian wondered what he would find if he tore them off. 

No. No, that was unseemly. Adrian collected himself. He put a hand on the red marks Trevor had left on his neck and shoulder. 

Trevor dropped his tunic. He leaned back into Adrian. The thrumming warmth of his skin was going to melt him. Adrian let out a little gasp when Trevor hooked a finger into the waist of his trousers. This was more forward than Adrian was prepared for.

"Wait," Adrian said, as Trevor started to slide his pants off. He put his hands on Trevor's wrists. Trevor paused.

"Can I change first?"

Trevor blinked. He looked down. Adrian winced. Under his pants, he was still wearing the ragged material he'd been wrapped in at the barracks. He hadn't had the time or resources to acquire anything else.

"Shit, yeah. Sorry." Trevor let go.

"I should still have some clothes in here," Adrian said. He slipped past Trevor and got to a chest of drawers opposite the bed. 

Adrian heard Trevor move back to the bed. His bed. Adrian opened the first set of drawers. How many times had he wanted to, fantasized over, having someone in this bed beside him? And felt it was impossible. Wondered at how his father had someone slept with his mother without ever hurting her. Bloodlust aside, he'd worried about mechanical challenges, the cold solidness of his body. And what about his fangs? How could he even kiss someone?

What was the expression his mother had used? A silver lining. It felt grimly appropriate.

Adrian stared blankly into the drawers. Shirts. Useful. But not what he was looking for right now. Had he really forgotten where he kept his underclothes? It had been a year, but he had spent most of that year in restless sleep.

Trevor was behind him. Watching him, as he was bent over trying to regain any sense of composure. Adrian shook his head and thought of something to say.

"So, is that a fantasy for all Belmonts?"

"Is what?" Trevor said. He sounded distracted. 

Adrian chuckled. Maybe he wasn't the only one struggling to keep pace. "Biting a vampire?"

"I mean, after having so many of you fuckers trying to pin and sink your teeth into us-- you gotta wonder what the appeal is."

"Or maybe you just enjoy being cruel to me," Adrian said. He sniffed. Hooking one hand on the knob of the second drawer, he jammed the thing open and finally found something he could replace the awful rags with. "Ah, here we go." Still facing away from Trevor, he tugged off the rags and changed into a clean, dark blue set of underwear. He heard Trevor's heart rate jump when he stripped.

"Does it really matter what you're wearing if I'm just going to tear it off of you?" Trevor asked.

"Yes, Trevor," Adrian said. He turned, put one hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow. "Presentation matters."

The look on Trevor's face made all his efforts worthwhile. His mouth fell open. He let out a choked gasp. Adrian felt a very different kind of predatory urge well up in his stomach. It was suddenly of tantamount importance that he satisfy. If Trevor was going to burn with shame for this, he was going to make it wonderfully worth while.

Adrian strode forward. He put his hands on Trevor's knees. The trousers would need to come off. But Adrian could wait. He was a patient creature. 

A warm, trembling hand pressed over Adrian's scar. Adrian shivered. The memory of pain made the touch sweeter. He was vulnerable here, could better feel Trevor's warmth as he traced down. 

"This isn't fair," Trevor said, echoing, "You're perfect and I'm-"

Adrian put a finger to Trevor's lips. "You are warm," he said, "Full of life. Pulsing. Entrancing. Gorgeous."

"Yeah, but could you say that like you want to fuck me, not eat me?"

Adrian slipped his hand down- down- down across Trevor's chest. So many scars. And there would be more, once the bandages came off. Adrian hoped he got to see that. He undid the button on Trevor's pants in one easy twist of his fingers. "I am, more than content with the former."

He straddled Trevor. He still had his hand extended, exploring the webs of scars on Trevor's body. He grinned. He pressed Trevor into the bed. Adrian's hair fell forward in a cascade of gold between them.

"Care to know a fantasy of mine?" he said.

Trevor nodded, "Yeah, sure." He didn't sound completely focused. His eyes were on Adrian's chest.

Adrian brought both hands down to Trevor's sides. "Fellatio."

"Huh," Trevor grunted.

Adrian paused. Indifference was not the reaction he'd expected. "O-only if you're okay with- I mean, obviously it would have been impossible before, which I think is why I want- But we don't have to-"

"Adrian? What the fuck does that mean?"

 

Adrian winced. "Fellatio?" 

 

"I don't speak Greek."

"Latin," Adrian informed him. "I-- ugh. Trevor, you should know this."

"Yeah? What kind of kinky vampiric shit-"

Trevor trailed off when Adrian dipped his head. He brushed his lips over the bulge in Trevor's pants. "I want to suck you off."

"Fuck. Really?" Trevor laughed.

"Please Trevor, for once can we forgo the snide comments and just--" Adrian started.

"Yeah," Trevor said. He nodded. He slid off his pants. Of course he wasn't wearing underwear.

Adrian wetted his lips. He considered Trevor's cock. He bent down, and promptly got a strand of his own hair in his mouth.

Adrian used one hand to push his hair out of his face. He liked having it long, but this was a complication he hadn't anticipated.

He heard Trevor chuckle and looked up. 

"Here, Adrian," he said. He reached down and pulled all of Adrian's hair into one hand. The grip was reassuring in a strange way. It meant that if Adrian-- forgot himself-- Trevor could jerk his head back. He held Adrian's hair loosely. Adrian bent forward. He teased his swollen head with his tongue. Trevor shuddered.

Adrian gulped. "Let me know if I'm doing something wrong."

"Trust me. You'll know," Trevor said. He tugged Adrian's hair gently. Teasingly.

Adrian spread his lips wide and descended, wetting Trevor's shaft with his tongue. He caught the rhythm of it easily, using his arms and torso to bring his head back and forth. Trevor was pulsing and hot in his mouth. He hardened, throbbing, filling Adrian up till his tip pressed into the back of his throat.

Adrian recoiled on instinct. Trevor grunted, gripping Adrian's hair and thrusting his pelvis, catching him and going deeper. The pesky human reflex subsided. Adrian felt like he was drinking Trevor in. It was almost as he imagined. The taboo in itself was sweet; red warmth throbbing into his mouth and pressing into his throat.

Adrian succumbed. He sank deeper, until his nose brushed Trevor's coarse hair. His own cock, throbbing and frustrated, found purchase on Trevor's leg as Adrian bobbed. He really was like a dog, then; desperate, humping, slobbering. 

"Fuck," Trevor breathed. He tugged Adrian up slightly. "You're-- fuck."

Adrian gasped. "Eloquent as ever, I see."

He ran his lips sloppily over Trevor's head and whatever Trevor was trying to say dissolved into thrusts and grunts. Adrian worked his way down again. By the time he'd gotten Trevor's tip to the back of his throat, Trevor had let go of his hair. He arched his back in a series of strained thrusts that reverberated through both of their bodies. His final grunt became a gasp.

Adrian blinked, registering the change. A milky white tint spread across his vision, and a diffuse pleasure tingled down to the tips of his fingers. It was some strange inversion of bloodlust, some animal in him satisfied. Trevor slumped under him, his heart rate settling. Adrian's brain finally caught up to his senses and the taste of Trevor's seed in his mouth.

"Oh," Adrian said. He swallowed.

Trevor laughed. "Come here."

He put his hands on Adrian's shoulders and flipped him onto his back. Adrian sank gratefully onto Trevor. It was like slipping into a warm bath. Trevor was exhausted; Adrian felt his sluggish pulse with his own, scattered senses. 

"What do you need?" Trevor said. 

"Uhhh," Adrian started. His brain felt like mush, but his body was still tensed, excited, wanting. Trevor put his hand on Adrian's hip. 

Adrian groaned. He twisted his head back until he could speak into Trevor's ear. "Would you- play with me?"

"Course," Trevor said, "How?"

Adrian gritted his teeth. "Trevor."

Trevor's hand inched along the band of his underclothes. It was incoherent and infuriating. He felt his cock pulsing, so close to Trevor's hand. Adrian thrust forward, but only into empty space.

"How should I play with you?" Trevor asked.

Adrian narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Just, jerk me off? Please?"

"That so hard?" Trevor asked. He slid Adrian's underwear off and then chuckled. "Oh. Guess it is."

"You- ass," Adrian hissed. His breath caught as Trevor felt him up, running his thumb up his length and teasing the throbbing underside of his head.

"Here," Trevor said. He pressed Adrian's face into his neck.

Adrian shuddered. Naked, splayed atop Trevor, played with and held to the enticing softness of his neck, he barely lasted a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took weeks to write. Another section where the solution was to switch to Adrian's POV. 
> 
> And, uhh, sex? Idk. This is why people write about vampires, right? Oral fixations, consumption of bodily fluids? 
> 
> No? It's actually a power fantasy thing?
> 
> Oh. Whoops. Well, here it is anyway. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Comments and kudos mean the world to me cause I am officially OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE.
> 
> EDIT- forgot to add the chapter title. : P It's there now.


	37. Candlestick Goof

He'd laid in a bed beside Adrian before. The previous morning, actually. It was strange, trying to reconcile that they had only been in the castle for a day so far. So many things had changed. This shift, that the attraction between them was no longer unspoken, was really the least of it.

Adrian lay on Trevor's chest. He was either asleep, or faking it very well. Trevor drew his eyes across the taut lines of Adrian's back. He blinked. There was a bright purple bruise just below the last gentle curve of his ribs. Trevor shifted, reaching out his hand. Where had that come from? 

When Trevor stirred, Adrian's eyes fluttered open. He raised his head.

"Good morning."

Trevor grunted. "Yeah."

Adrian chuckled. He slipped off of Trevor. "My little ray of sunshine. Are you always this grumpy?"

Trevor stared at his back. The bruise was gone. Had he imagined it? He yawned, sat up, and felt his empty stomach slosh. "Adrian, I haven't had any food or water since we've been here."

"Oh," Adrian blinked, "We should, uhh, fix that."

Trevor nodded. He tugged his trousers back on. Sleep had helped, but his throat was desperately dry, and there was a strained band of tension behind his eyes. "And we need to find Sypha. Seen any trace of them?"

"No," Adrian said. He grabbed a clean shirt from his chest of drawers and pulled it on. "I was dropped into the colosseum. Center of the castle. Been working my way out since. What about you?"

"Dunno. I kinda crashed into a tower? And then--" Trevor paused. He gulped. "I found something."

Adrian turned in the act of stepping into his pants. He raised an eyebrow. "Something?"

Trevor reached forward for his belt, and fumbled with one of the pockets. "This devilish thing," he said, pulling out the nail.

Dressed, Adrian returned to the bed and inspected the piece of metal. He cocked his head. "Where did you find that?"

"In a room full of portraits," Trevor said, "Is it one of the artifacts, then?"

"I think so-" Adrian said. He trailed off. "Trevor, are you okay?"

"Course I am," Trevor snapped. He took a deep breath, trying to get himself under control.

"Yeah," Adrian said. He sat on the bed and pressed Trevor's face into his shoulder, "Course you are."

"They didn't hate me."

"Who didn't?"

Trevor sobbed into his hold. "I- I saw them. All together. My family. Their ghosts. Their bodies. Burned, in pain, awful." He shivered. "But they didn't hate me."

Adrian squeezed him. "No, Trevor. They don't hate you." 

Cold fingers combed through Trevor's hair. It was more comforting than Trevor had expected. He took a moment and allowed himself to just lay there, still. 

Something gurgled. Adrian raised an eyebrow. Trevor realized it was his own stomach.

"Come on," Adrian said, "Get dressed. I have an educated guess where we can get you some food."

 

They found the pantry adjoined to the library. Adrian scowled. "What was he thinking, putting the larder here?"

"Well," Trevor said, through a mouthful of dried fruit, "He doesn't eat. You know. Food."

"He's transformed the castle into a senseless labyrinth."

"And filled it with monsters."

"That too."

Adrian was rifling through the contents of the pantry, trying to find provisions that weren't molded. He held out a jar for Trevor's inspection. There was white fuzz on it. Trevor shook his head.

Adrian sighed. "It would take me a lifetime to make this place liveable again."

"Oh shit," Trevor said, "Guess this is your inheritance, huh? If we all survive this."

"I believe succession is annulled in the case of patricide," Adrian said, "But this is the one place where I'll ever belong."

"What do you mean?"

Adrian shrugged and moved to another shelf. "I'll never be able to live among humans."

"Arges was full of bastards, Adrian. Once all this demon and vampire panic calms down-"

Adrian shook his head. "It's not just that though. The speakers were afraid of me. Even you were afraid of me."

Trevor gulped. "I wasn't afraid. Weirded out, maybe."

"And you will be again, if my teeth ever grow back."

Trevor sighed. That was an uncomfortable little detail, and Adrian was right- Trevor certainly wouldn't have let him in such dangerous proximity if he'd still had fangs. Trevor tried for a smile. "Hey. I'll get used to them. And if you think Sypha and I are just gonna let you mope around this castle- well, we're not."

"My company would attract suspicion and distrust neither of you can afford," Adrian said.

"Then we'll go live with the speakers," Trevor said, "Or, I'll give you a personal tour of the old Belmont Estate. You're being over-dramatic."

He finished his strange breakfast of mostly recognizable foodstuffs and stood up. Adrian had stooped down to inspect a bottom shelf. He put a hand on Adrian's shoulder. "You have options."

Adrian dragged out a sack that was stained with black mold. He wrinkled his nose. "I suppose we have to defeat Dracula before I fret over this."

"That's the spirit," Trevor said. "Come on. We found a few things. Let's track down Sypha."

Adrian nodded. He accepted Trevor's hand and pulled with so much force that Trevor fell on top of him instead of helping him up.

"Oi!"

"Sorry!" Adrian spluttered.

Trevor shook his head. He kissed Adrian. "That'll teach me to be polite."

They helped each other up, and left the pantry with a smattering of provisions in a small sack.

 

An hour later, they had not found Sypha. But they had arrived at the intersection of two grand hallways. Adrian considered their three options in turn. Trevor, meanwhile, turned to look at something gleaming in an alcove nearby.

"Well, that was the library," Adrian said, "So this way should lead to the marble gallery and then the exit. Armory should be over there. The chapel is that way. If anything here is still the way it should be."

Trevor narrowed his eyes at the candlestick in the alcove. The silver was unblemished. He saw his face reflected, inverted, in its surface. He stepped closer and the image twisted, turning strange. The blue sconces around him hissed.

Trevor reached out a hand.

"We try the gallery first, I think," Adrian said, "Trevor- wait, Trevor? What are you doing?"

Trevor lifted the candlestick off its base and cupped it in his hands. "It's cold."

"Well I'd expect so, yes. It's metal."

"Candlestick," Trevor muttered, “That’s one of the artifacts. Right?” 

Adrian blinked. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, can you name them all?" 

Adrian spread out his fingers. "Well, there was the eye and the nail. The ring and--"

"A fang and a heart, right?" Trevor said. "That still leaves one." He gave the candlestick a wave and shrugged.

"It's not a candlestick," Adrian said. "First of all, it was a one syllable word."

"Sconce, then. Maybe it was just sconce.” Trevor turned the candlestick over in his hands. "It feels weird."

Adrian shook his head. "It wasn't a sconce, Trevor. We should keep moving."

"Alright,” Trevor said, placing the candlestick back on the mantle. “But if we fail to assemble Dracula-- gonna be your fault."

They started down the hall together. Adrian turned his head back at the last moment. "You know, I suppose there wouldn't be any harm in bringing it with us."

 

"So, the gallery, huh?" Trevor said. "Didn't realize there would be so many demons."

Adrian slashed his sword through another's neck. These were the chittering, dog and bat-like creatures that seemed to make up the bulk of Dracula's army. Trevor stretched out his whip and struck one that was charging from the other end of the shadowy hallway.

Adrian glared at him. "Clearly, this is not the gallery. We should head back, but-"

A third demon charged in. Adrian dispatched it instead of finishing his sentence. He didn't need to. Trevor understood. They both wanted to know where this corridor would lead. After endless empty halls, why were there so many demons here?

Adrian hissed as they turned a corner. He pointed to a stone lion's head leering at them from the wall. A flickering orange light radiated from its open mouth. "This is the way to the throne room."

"You don't think-?" Trevor started. 

A demon screeched out of the rafters, lunging for Adrian. Trevor threw his whip forward. Adrian flinched and ducked out of the way. The whip just tousled his hair as it flicked out and struck the demon behind him.

Adrian raised his head slowly. He shivered.

"Shit," Trevor said. He carefully withdrew the whip. "Sorry. That's a sore spot now, isn't it?"

Adrian gulped. "That's putting it mildly."

Trevor looked down at the whip as he wound it back over his arm. He wondered if Adrian's blood was still seeped into the leather. It was a family heirloom. Adrian was just the most recent of lifetimes of vampires struck by it. But it had been intended for fighting vampires, not torturing them. 

"I'll be more careful," Trevor told him, "It's not going to touch you, Adrian."

"That a promise?" Adrian asked, "After how rough you were with me last night, I did have to wonder if you have a thing for, well-"

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Trevor said. "I want to hurt you. Just, not with that."

Adrian straightened. He dusted himself off. "You're absolutely wicked."

"Thanks," Trevor said. He suddenly wanted to tackle Adrian back to the ground, kiss the memory of pain off of his face, see if he could fluster him again. Dammit. They'd just had to find the demons now, hadn't they? He cleared his throat instead. "Throne room, you said? Think Dracula is here?"

"This is all wrong. We only have two- maybe three artifacts. Sypha isn't with us. If he is here, I don't think we're ready to face him."

He looked up the hallway. Wind plucked at his hair. Open sky was visible. It was evening and the sky was dark blue. Trevor heard chittering.

"But let me guess. We gotta check?"

"Of course," Adrian said.

Trevor rolled his eyes and followed him towards the open air. There was a set of stone steps, crumbling off into empty sky on either side. Trevor grimaced. Adrian stepped onto the walkway and demons hurtled down at him. He parried their claws, stalwart and sturdily balanced on the center of the narrow passage over the void. 

All well and good. He could float. It wasn't like getting knocked off the side was a death sentence for him. Trevor gritted his teeth and stepped towards the edge of the stairs, considering them.

"Dear lord," Adrian said.

Trevor jerked his head up, wondering what could make Adrian invoke a god that was not his own. Adrian stared up the stairs and into the room beyond. Behind more ranks of demons, a blinding white glow radiated from the throne room. 

Trevor sighed. He ran up to Adrian and swiped his sword at another demon that swooped down at them. Now that he was at Adrian's eye level, he saw it.

It had been a throne room. Dracula's throne room. Trevor remembered stories about it. Legendary fights between the lord of Darkness and Belmonts past had happened in this room. The heavy metal throne had been knocked aside. Behind it, there was a giant stone motif of a skull, shrouded in rich, red curtains. The white light shone from the skull's gaping mouth. Even as they watched, three bat wing demons chittered, pulling themselves out of the light and into the world.

It was the portal. Trevor shuddered. This was the opening into hell from which Dracula pulled his forces. Another four demons clawed through the light. Trevor starred and suddenly realized the enormity of the task before them. He was just a hunter, maybe a warrior, facing the immense and immortal evils of the nine hells brought into the world, alive and writhing and intent upon the destruction of human life. He did not have magic. He barely understood what he was seeing. Killing a single vampire, the infamous Dracula, was one thing. How was he supposed to reseal a portal into hell?

The open sky above them screeched, and something slammed Trevor off of the stairs. 

"Oh," Trevor said. 

He toppled into the void.

Trevor twisted his body. He looked up at the dwindling stretch of the bridge to Dracula's throne room. His hand was on his whip. He could save himself. But there was nothing sturdy for him to latch onto. He couldn't find the demon that had attacked him. All he saw was Adrian. Adrian turning, trying to find him, trying to understand what had happened. If he reached up his whip, wrapped it around Adrian's chest-

But Trevor couldn't. So he fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fiance insisted on this chapter. The goof about the candlestick, I mean. Knocking Trevor to his inevitable death was my idea.
> 
> I'm not killing Trevor. 
> 
> Anywho, thanks for the response to the last chapter! This has been a wild ride, and we are in the final stretch!


	38. Returned (Sypha finally gets to sleep)

"Trevor!"

Adrian appeared beside him in a red flash. He wrapped his arms around Trevor. Trevor felt his magic dragging at them both, trying to undo Trevor's terminal momentum.

"Forgot I couldn't fly, didn't you?"

Adrian gritted his teeth, struggling to slow them. Trevor dared to look down. They were hurtling towards an unforgiving looking stone courtyard.

"Idiot," Trevor said, "Go. Be a bat or something."

Adrian gulped. He held Trevor more tightly. "I can do this. Y-you're gonna be okay."

"I'm gonna be a Belmont shaped splat on your Dad's cobblestones."

The ground loomed in, imminent and still far too deadly fast. Trevor closed his eyes and buried his face in Adrian's shirt.

From somewhere far beneath them, Trevor heard a familiar cry. A gust of wind like a solid hand slammed into them from below. It was enough- just barely. Trevor landed with a thump onto the stone ground. He'd be bruised. But he was able to pick himself up and look wearily around.

Mist circled around him for a moment before Adrian reappeared. He looked a little guilty, but Trevor gave him an approving nod. Self-preservation instincts were good, even if Trevor had never learned them.

As soon as Adrian reformed, they were both encased in ice.

Trevor shivered as he was enveloped in cold. Deadly sharp spears held his hands and legs in place. He couldn't turn his head without digging his neck into a frozen spike. He looked to Adrian with just his eyes. Adrian was similarly trapped, and wincing at the places the ice touched his bare skin.

"Alright you two. We have a conversation to finish."

Trevor looked over. Sypha strode out into the courtyard. They had a spell prepared in two raised fingers. Illuminated by the magic, they had large bags under their eyes, and a strained look to their face. Trevor noticed they limped slightly as they approached. They had a black box clutched in their free hand.

"Sypha!"

"Spare me the games!" Sypha spat. Lightning crackled in their hand. They walked up to Trevor with a hard look in their eyes. Trevor gulped. 

"Sypha, it's us," Adrian said, "Trevor. Adrian."

Sypha narrowed their eyes. They brought the lightning close enough to Trevor's face that he could feel the heat from the spell. Trevor's eyes widened. "Sypha, it's me! Uhhh-"

"We're real," Adrian said. He flailed his hands in the ice, as though trying to demonstrate that he was solid. 

"I know what you are," Sypha said flatly. They brought their hand close enough that an arc of energy shot across their fingers and struck the side of Trevor's jaw. Trevor flinched. 

"Fuck," Trevor hissed. The lightning seared across his face, numbing his chin and leaving the taste of blood and static in his mouth, "Sypha, we're not-"

"I fed off him!"

Both Sypha and Trevor turned to stare at Adrian. He gulped. "Back in that cell. When he told you to look away. He gave me blood. That- that's why I recovered."

"Really?" Trevor asked. "Of all the things you could tell them-- that was all you could think of? That was supposed to be a secret."

Sypha narrowed their eyes. They looked from Adrian back to Trevor. They ducked slightly and stared at Trevor through the distorted ice.

"You're not naked."

Trevor stuttered, "What?! Of course I'm not. Would you please let us go before I freeze and Adrian cooks?"

Sypha flung out their hands. "Sorry! I just- nothing's been real in here."

"That's been our finding as well," Adrian said. He touched a hand to the red welts the ice had made on his wrists and they faded back to grey. He looked at Sypha a little nervously. "It's good to see you again."

Trevor shivered as freezing water soaked into his clothes. He stepped out of the pool forming around his feet. "We have food." He said. He produced the sack.

Sypha turned their head to him. They blinked. Then they ran forward and hugged him. 

"Oh sure, that wins you over," Trevor said. He shook the water out of his hair, "What's with the friendly fucking welcome?"

"There are demons running around disguised as the two of you," Sypha said. They let go of Trevor and shook water out of the front of their robes. "Oh, and you can thank me later."

"What, for the ice bath?" Trevor said.

"For keeping you from falling to your death, actually," Sypha said, "Although, I'm sure you needed the bath too."

"We have company!" Adrian said.

Sypha and Trevor looked up as high pitched shrieks split the open air.

"Perhaps we can argue later?"

Sypha started to summon a spell. Adrian shook his head and strode past them. "Is it the chapel, this way?"

"Yes, but shouldn't we fight?"

"There's no point," Trevor said, "The portal up there is just gonna keep shitting out demons."

"What?!"

"A crude way of putting it, but Trevor is right," Adrian called over his shoulder. He waved them forward, into the shadows at the edge of the courtyard. "It's better to hide."

They fled into the chapel. It wasn't until they found a secluded side room that they paused to rest. Sypha was practically asleep on their feet, and Trevor felt guilty learning that that on top of having not eaten, they hadn't been able to sleep in the castle. Especially since he and Adrian had slept very soundly the night before.

"I tried, mind you," Sypha said, "But I was attacked."

Adrian tilted his head. "Demons?"

"No," Sypha said, "Hand me the food, by the way. I'm starving."

"Some terrible avatar of your life's traumas?" Trevor asked.

Sypha raised an eyebrow at him. "No. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Sypha dug into the sack. Trevor felt a weight on his shoulder. He looked over and brushed Adrian's hand away. Adrian frowned. Trevor shook his head. What? Was Adrian ready to tell Sypha what was going on? Was he ready to tell them that they'd fucked in Dracula's castle? Trevor could barely admit that to himself.

Sypha looked up. Their mouth was stuffed with dried fruit. "It was some kind of vampire, I think. Called herself Mircalla."

Adrian groaned, "Childlike? Giggly?"

"Yeah, do you know her?"

"Carmilla. She's an old family friend," Adrian said, "Uh, ancient actually."

"No offense Adrian, but fuck your family," Trevor said.

Sypha shot him a glare, but Adrian just sighed. "Yeah, that's fair."

Sypha shook their head and returned to exploring the food they'd found. "She's after the artifacts. She led me to one of them."

"You've found one?" Adrian asked.

Sypha smirked. They finally let go of the box they'd been clutching to their stomach. They set it between the three of them. 

"Shit," Trevor said, "I'm not magic, and I can feel that."

Adrian dipped his voice to a whisper. "The heart?"

Sypha slowly undid the latch and lifted the lid. "Yes." They fumbled with something on their left hand. The silver on their finger flickered in the blue light from the nearby sconces. It rang as it fell, collided with the open lid of the box and rolled off onto the floor. "And the ring. I found two."

Adrian caught the ring before it could roll away. He nodded. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a ruby just smaller than his fist. "I have the eye." He set it next to the lead box. It gleamed vaguely purple in the light.

Trevor scowled. He pulled the nail out of his pocket. He dropped it on the floor. 

"Oh, and we have this," Adrian said. He retrieved the candlestick and presented it to Sypha.

Sypha blinked. “A candlestick?” they asked. 

Adrian gulped. "I- we couldn't remember the prophecy."

"Hey, leave me out of this," Trevor said, "I'm an idiot. No one should be counting on me to remember this shit."

Sypha's lip twitched. "So you grabbed a candlestick, just in case."

"Can you remember all the artifacts?" Adrian asked.

"Yes, actually, I can," Sypha said, "I'm a speaker. Oral knowledge, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"Rib, nail, eye, fang, ring and heart," Sypha recited easily and confidently. "So we have four. We're still missing the rib and the fang. What have you two been up to that you only found one each?"

"Well-- you know, stuff. We only just found each other yesterday," Adrian said. He coughed awkwardly. He set the candlestick aside. 

"Do you guys hear that?" Trevor said.

Adrian and Sypha looked over at him. Trevor had his head tilted back towards the door. "There's people talking out there."

"Ghosts?" Sypha said.

Adrian held a hand to his ear. "I don't hear anything."

Trevor sighed. He stood up, got to the door and slammed it open. "Anyone out there?" He looked up and down the shadowy corridor. It was empty. 

He shook his head. It hadn't sounded like talking exactly. More like chanting. He strained his ears, trying to catch it again. The castle was silent except for the buzzing of torches. If Adrian hadn't heard anything, then there was nothing there.

Trevor closed the door and stumped back. An uncomfortable silence fell over the three of them. Sypha had finished eating. They just looked exhausted now. Adrian had taken off his cloak and was methodically wringing the last of the water out of it.

Trevor looked at Sypha. "You should sleep."

"Sure," Sypha said, "But, first. What the hell, Adrian?"

"I'm sorry?" Adrian said. He raised his head.

"You drank Trevor's blood? I thought you didn't drink from humans. How are we supposed to trust you?"

Adrian winced. 

"Sypha, that's not fair," Trevor said, "I gave him blood. It was my idea. He was barely conscious. You remember, right? Everything was so horrible. He was beaten to shit. He wasn't going to heal without it. And we couldn't get out without him."

Adrian looked at Trevor. His eyes were wide. He looked vulnerable again. Scared, even, of Sypha's accusation. It reminded Trevor of what he had said about not having a place among humans. Shit. Sypha and Trevor were the only people in the world who knew he wasn't a monster-- the only ones who were still alive, anyway. And here Sypha was, horrified and accusing.

"I trust him," Trevor said. He put a hand on Adrian's shoulder. "He's not going to hurt us."

Sypha tilted their head, considering both of them. Trevor wondered what they saw. Did they see how Trevor held Adrian's shoulder; defensively, as though he could protect him? "I never thought I'd see you defend a vampire."

Trevor shrugged. He kept his hand on Adrian's shoulder and sat down. "It's been a long day."

Sypha shrugged. "Alright. As long as nothing is going to attack me," they glared pointedly at Adrian, "I'm going to bed."

Once they were snoring, Adrian cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"I trust your instincts," Trevor said, "I mean, you were able to take my whole co-"

Adrian silenced him with a kiss. "Go to bed, Trevor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, we already knew Sypha could take both of them in single combat. But I wanted to make sure that that was clear in this narrative. : P
> 
> Trio's back together. And it only took 2 days and *counts* eleven chapters. Pacing is hard.
> 
> And, Carmilla! My favorite villanous vampire. It's a novella written 30 years before Dracula and I'm not saying it's great, but you can find it online for free and it gave me all of the lesbian feels. And of course she has like three names (Carmilla, Mircalla, Millarca) because-- no, seriously, what is it about vampires and names?
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and-- kudo-ing? Yes! We're getting into the final stretch and it's gonna be funnnnnnn!


	39. Rib

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. This might sound strange but I just want everyone to know~ this chapter is not an endorsement of christianity.

"I don't remember this being here," Sypha said. They squinted into the bright, white light shining down the hall. 

"Sunlight?" Trevor asked, "I mean, it is morning."

Adrian stepped into the light between them. He grimaced. "It's not sunlight. It's-- worse."

"You okay over there?" Sypha asked. They turned their head.

Adrian nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Huh," Trevor said. His eyes had adjusted. He looked out into the room in front of them, glowing in golden light. Long, narrow stained glass windows lined the walls. At the far end, there was a gilded altar. "Adrian, why does your dad have a fucking church in his house?"

Adrian shielded his eyes with his hands. "I-- never asked him. It might have been a place he could hide things from other vampires and demons."

"What would he need to hide from other vampires?" Sypha asked.

Trevor gulped. "This was for your mother, wasn't it?"

"I think so, yes. In part."

"Huh," Trevor said, "Smart, I guess."

Sypha stepped to the edge of the room. They stretched a hand forward and took in a sharp breath. "It's magically protected."

Trevor tilted his head. He heard the chanting again. It was stronger, louder, a low rumbling in his feet and his ears. Gooseflesh formed on his arms. The voices were speaking in a language he didn't recognize, but he couldn't miss his family name spoken like a hymn. _Belmont. Belmont. Belmont._

"There's something in there," Sypha said.

"Okay, you can both hear the chanting now, right?" Trevor said.

"No," Sypha said.

"Trevor?" Adrian said, "I think whatever you're hearing is calling to you."

Trevor gulped. He stepped up to where Sypha was skirting a gleaming, gold barrier of light separating the chapel from the hall. 

Sypha pointed into the chapel. "Do you see it? There, on the altar. Something is reflecting the light."

Trevor squinted through the gleam. He extended his hand and felt the hum of magic in his fingertips. He felt the hymn in his throat.

"Can you break the barrier?" he asked.

"I can't," Sypha said, "It's not the kind you break. It's the kind you walk through. Except-" They slammed their hand into the barrier and it reverberated with a sound like a struck gong. They recoiled, cradling their arm. "Well, I've never been baptized. I don't think it likes that."

"Huh," Trevor said, "Uhh, Adrian, can you?"

"Look at me, Trevor. Look me in the face and ask me if I can pass through a holy barrier."

"Well, have you been baptized?"

"Uhh, partially? That was how my mother figured out that I couldn't stand holy water."

"Oh," Trevor winced, "Ouch."

Sypha looked over at him. "I think this one is on you, Trevor."

"Especially if you're hearing mysterious chanting."

"B-but I'm excommunicated," Trevor said.

"Magic barriers don't care about heresy," Sypha said.

"The church though, they condemned us," Trevor said. He ran his hands through his hair. "Condemned me."

"As part of a political power grab," Adrian reminded him quietly.

"Well, yes, but," Trevor started. 

Sypha sighed. "I know you aren't into the whole church thing, Trevor, but you're the closest thing we have to a holy warrior. Or a Christian, apparently."

He groaned and turned around to Sypha, "I'm a filthy sodomite, okay?"

Trevor heard Adrian wince. 

"Trevor?" Sypha said, "Well, first off, please don't call yourself that. And I-- uhh-- already knew that."

"Fuck," Trevor said. "Jesus fucking ch-- you knew? This whole time."

"Word of the Belmont excommunication got around," Sypha said, "But, you realize that's not a problem, right?"

Trevor gritted his teeth, "What, that speakers can't keep their noses out of other people's business?"

Sypha dropped their voice, "I don't think your god cares if you're gay."

"What would you know about it?" Trevor grunted.

"Do we have to go over this again?" Sypha said, "Speaker. Knowledge. Oral history. I know more of what is-- and isn't-- in the bible than most priests, okay? And there's, like, one line about laying with a man as with a woman and when it's viewed in context--"

"Alright. Fine," Trevor said. He threw up his hands. "But get an ice wall ready if I get set on fire, or something." He turned and walked to the barrier.

Behind him, he heard Sypha ask, "So, Adrian, how did you know?"

"Oh, uhh, just a hunch."

"A hunch?" Sypha said. Trevor practically heard their raised eyebrow and quizzical look. "Well, congrats to both of you, then. I'm, uhh, happy for you."

Adrian spluttered.

"I can still hear you, you know," Trevor snapped. He didn't look back. He extended both hands to the gleaming edge of the barrier. He closed his eyes and stepped forward. A current of energy pulsed from Trevor's fingers through his body. It hummed inside him for a moment. Then the feeling dissipated. Trevor dared to open his eyes.

When had he internalized the idea that he was dirty? How long has this been festering in him? Since he was a young man? Even before? Some deep seated fear that the world hated him, his family hated him, god hated him? 

Trevor stepped into the light and felt the weight of so much shame burning off of him like the long shadow he was casting backwards. He felt light. Younger. Clean, when baths only reminded him how dirty he felt. Maybe, just maybe, a Belmont could look down on him now with a small nod of approval instead of a sneer. 

He passed the stately wooden pews and mounted the steps to the altar. A shaped piece of silver rested on the center of the altar. It was a multifaceted diamond, with lethal looking ridges at the edge of each face. It was beautiful. Trevor could feel divine magic radiating off of it. What was something this holy doing in Dracula's castle?

Trevor's side buzzed, lingering from the sensation of passing through the barrier. Trevor looked down. He blinked. His whip was glowing. That wasn't normal. 

Trevor gulped. He was standing in the presence of something he had feared for years. And he wasn't burning. He wasn't a pillar of salt, hadn't been struck by lightning. He could stand, whole and found adequate in the eyes of-- well, god. But standing didn't feel appropriate.

Trevor reached to his side. He slowly unbound his whip. He knelt and placed it on the altar. He removed his hands. For the first time in years, Trevor Belmont prayed. 

Whatever Sypha had said, he had his confessions and his apologies to make. He had his shame, so much shame, that he could finally speak of, quietly into his clasped hands. The air around him hummed, not with the faint electrical whir of blue sconces throughout the castle, but with the gentle, golden softness of a spring day, thick with the sound of bees and hymns sung low and reverberating. He had forgotten this. God had been all hellfire and the suffering of the immortal soul for so long that Trevor had forgotten that there was supposed to be forgiveness and love in the embrace of his creator. He asked for both.

After long enough that his knees were sore, Trevor noticed the light change. The humming air around him retreated slightly, giving him space to rise. The golden glow dimmed to the normal, faint light of a winters day. He took a deep breath and slowly stood. 

He dabbed at the corners of his eyes and looked at the altar. It was still gold and gleaming, holy, with the silver diamond laying tranquil in the center of the coils of Trevor's whip. Trevor reached for his whip reflexively. He touched it, and a spark of static traveled up his arm. He furrowed his brow. It reminded his of the first time he had picked it up, the small test of his blood and faith, the judgement of the prayer in the leather.

Trevor gently lifted his whip, and found a new weight connected to its end. He gulped. The heavy silver morningstar hung from the whip's tongue, so perfectly connected that he couldn't see any knot or binding that had meshed metal to leather. It was whole and perfect, his whip made new and stronger.

"Vampire killer," Trevor breathed. He held the morningstar in an open, reverent hand. He restored his weapon to his side and found the weight oddly right, as though it had always belonged there.

"Trevor?" Sypha called.

He turned. The barrier must have faded when the light had changed. Sypha ran into the chapel. They paused and stared at him as he turned.

"What is it?" Trevor asked.

Sypha shook their head. "You look-- different. Somehow."

"I feel different, I guess," Trevor said. He shrugged. He started down the altar steps, and then paused. Something breathed on his neck. He looked back. 

There was still something on the altar. Something that had rested underneath the morningstar, in the center of the gilded platform. It was an ivory bone, slightly curved. There was a small crack in its center where the morningstar had rested on it.

Trevor extended his arm and a shiver spread up his hand. He grabbed the rib, unsurprised when it ran cold dread through his body. Somehow, the cold phased him less this time. He shook it off, still feeling an innermost warmth and light.

"Got another one," Trevor said. He held the rib out. 

Sypha gave him a thumbs up. "Now let's get out of here. Adrian is fretting."

Adrian had, apparently, gotten overwhelmed by the glow. He sat in the shadows in the hallway. "Sypha, you said you came here from the keep?" He raised his head from a slate he was writing on. He gulped. The chalk rolled off his slate and onto the floor. He stared at Trevor.

"Yes," Sypha said. They looked from Adrian to Trevor. They took the slate out of Adrian's hands. "Here. I can map up what I've seen." They ran down the hall. Trevor heard them close a door.

"Uhhh, hey there," Trevor said. He ran his hands through his hair. "Are you okay?"

Adrian shook his head. "I just- forgot, I think."

Trevor carefully sat down beside him. Adrian flinched. 

"What is it?" Trevor asked. "What's wrong?"

"Your whip," Adrian hissed. 

"Oh," Trevor said. He shifted so the morningstar wasn't touching Adrian's side. "Sorry."

Adrian sighed. "Damn it. You really are a Belmont, aren't you?"

"I mean, yeah?" Trevor said. He offered Adrian his hand. "I'm still me. I'm still, uhh, into you."

"You're practically glowing," Adrian said. He reached forward and then paused, eyeing Trevor's fingers as though he was afraid they would burn him. 

Trevor waited, hand outstretched. Adrian gingerly grazed his fingers. Then he wrapped his arms around him. He laughed. "You're terrifying. I think I like it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the comments and kudos. I am literally writing the last chapter right now and it's-- harder than I anticipated to sum up 50k plus words and wrap up character arches and-- write another sex scene? IDK.
> 
> I guess what I'm saying is that I'm open to suggestions.
> 
> Anywho, welcome to Adrian's private crisis of- oh crap he's a Belmont isn't he? I imagine it's a bit like when I thought I was allergic to my girlfriend.
> 
> Also, Trevor gets an upgrade and Sypha ALREADY KNEW AND IT'S FINE


	40. Carmilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, but- graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of injuries

Between the three of them, they constructed a decent map of the castle, despite Trevor insisting that he could hardly remember all the ridiculous twists and turns he'd taken. 

Adrian drew it out on the slate, piecing together their descriptions. He noted each artifact and where it had been found. Finally, he presented the slate to Sypha and Trevor.

"We've been through most of the castle, actually. So unless we missed something-"

"The fang isn't here," Sypha finished for him, putting his anxiety into words. 

"Then where the fuck is it?" Trevor asked.

Adrian massaged his temples. "It could be hidden somewhere?"

"Somewhere?" Sypha started. Then they paused. They raised their head. Trevor and Adrian did too. 

Trevor felt the skin on his back crawl. Something nearby suddenly felt like it was breathing, and alive. The castle, he realized. The castle suddenly felt like it was alive.

The ground under them gave a lurch. Gears ground together. Static hissed nearby. The blue sconces flickered.

Adrian's head jerked around. "He's moving the castle? Why?"

"I don't think Dracula is in charge anymore," Sypha said.

"What?"

"I- I think Carmilla is doing this."

Trevor, meanwhile, staggered towards the nearest window. He had one last impression of Arges, its brick and stone houses humbled by scorch marks, its high walls standing, less than useless, more a monument to utter senseless fear, in the distance. The castle creaked and heaved. Trevor's forehead slammed into the window. Blue light flashed. Gears whined and electricity crackled. Ancient metal groaned at the strain.

The light faded. Trevor squinted through the glass frame. He rubbed his forehead. 

"My god," he said.

"What is it?" Sypha asked. They went to join him. "Where are we?"

Trevor stared out into the high canopy of an ancient looking forest. "I have no idea."

Behind both of them, Adrian gulped. "I do."

 

"You said she was after the artifacts?" Adrian confirmed.

"Yes," Sypha gasped. Adrian was not easy to keep up with, even when he was clearly trying to set a reasonable pace. Sypha stretched out a hand and leaned on a side wall, panting. 

Trevor tore after them, and shouted up the hallway "So, she's on our side then? Trying to kill Dracula?" 

"I doubt it," Adrian said, "There is-- immense power in these pieces. In the hands of another, equally ancient vampire, well-" he shivered.

"Well shit," Trevor said, catching up to the group.

Adrian looked down a side passage. "Finally! Something where it should be."

He waved them into the smaller hallway. At the end of the passage, there was a large steel grate. Trevor was reminded of the gate of the prison cell in the barracks. Adrian opened it. The steel creaked.

"Adrian, what is this?" Sypha asked.

"Do you recall how we exited my keep in Gresit?" Adrian asked. He held the door open.

Trevor groaned. "Not another death trap."

"We survived the first," Sypha reminded him.

"Yeah. But literally everything in this castle has tried to kill us."

"Trevor?" Adrian said.

Trevor turned. Adrian's voice was gentle and firm; reassuring, like the hand he offered. He had already stepped into what was really just a metal cage, hanging over the void.

Trevor rolled his eyes. "Like I could say no to you." He took the extended hand and stepped in. The cage floor swayed slightly.

Sypha jumped in after him. A smile played around their lips. They opened their mouth and Trevor felt his hackles rising, ready for an insult.

"Up or down?" they asked.

"Down," Adrian said. He pulled a lever in the corner. The cage rattled, and then started to descend. "She'll have exited already."

"Why?"

"Because, before this land was overgrown with forest, it was the location of my father's fortress. And his father's, before that. And his father's before that. This was the location of this castle, before its nature was changed."

"Okay," Trevor practically shouted over the rattling and creaking of the motor above them, "And that matters cause?"

"The castle might have moved," Adrian said, "But the tombs of my ancestors are still here. Vlad Dracula's tomb, is still here."

"What's she looking for in his tomb?"

Sypha gulped. They said it softly, and the words were almost drowned out. "We're still missing one piece."

"The fang."

 

She had it. Trevor didn't need to look into the dark crypt as Adrian hauled the door open. He could feel it; an itching evil pressing onto the back of his neck, squirming across his shoulders, sending gooseflesh up his arms. Whatever was waiting for them down there, it wasn't going to be good.

Adrian could sense it too. Or maybe he could smell it, based on how he wrinkled his elegant nose. Trevor looked over at Sypha. Did they know what was coming?

Sypha shrugged back at him. They summoned a ball of light in their hand. "I almost burned her face off before. How hard could it be, three on one?"

They had the right attitude, Trevor decided. He chuckled, drew his whip, and started down the low, dusty hall.

The dingy corridor opened into a central room. There were other, dark passages leading away. But she sat in the center of the room, bathed in moonlight that filtered from a hole in the mausoleum ceiling. It turned her thick, black hair silver. She sat on a coffin, kicking her stubby feet on its edge, waiting. She fidgeted with something in one hand. The fang, Trevor realized. She twisted it between her small fingers. 

Trevor raised his whip instinctively. Then he remembered the incident with the shade. He paused and looked over with Sypha. Sypha looked back. They seemed to get the idea. They inclined their head towards Carmilla.

Trevor stepped into the light and snapped his whip forward, aiming for Carmilla's raised hand. The leather hissed, stretched, coming straight for her wrist. Just as the whip extended, she vanished. The morningstar scrapped across the stone of the coffin.

"See, this isn't fair," she whined. She appeared beside Adrian, with her hand on Adrian's chest. "Alucard, last time I saw you, I was taller. I suppose you get the luxury of growing up"

Adrian winced. He took a step back. Energy crackled in Sypha's fingers. Trevor hastily wound his whip back into his hands. 

"Countess. Good evening."

Carmilla laughed. "So it's true then? You lost your teeth."

Adrian sighed. 

"I assumed it was all talk, but-- well you've just gotten beat to hell, haven't you?"

Adrian held up a hand. "We're giving you one chance to do this civilly."

Carmilla advanced on him. She sniffed. She inspected Adrian. "And death injured you, didn't he?"

"We don't have time for games," Adrian said. 

"Big mistake," Carmilla informed him, "You should have known better than to let your guard down like that."

"You're outnumbered and cornered. Give us the fang."

"This?" Carmilla asked. She wielded the fang between her fingers like a dagger. 

Sypha cried out, summoning spears of ice. Carmilla jaunted away from them, appearing at Adrian's back with her arm raised.

"No!" Trevor called out. But she'd already brought her hand down. 

Her lip curled. "You can have it." She stabbed the fang into Adrian's back. 

Adrian called out, more in confusion than pain. He crumpled in a flash of purple energy. 

Sypha roared. They threw a fireball at Carmilla. Carmilla giggled and sidestepped it, backing into the moonlit room.

Trevor looked from Carmilla, backing away from Sypha's magic, to Adrian, motionless on the floor. He sighed. 

"Adrian?"

The fang was sunk deep into his back, right at the spine. Purple energy oozed out of Adrian in long tendrils. Trevor gritted his teeth. Magic. He wasn't an expert. But he was pretty sure that wasn't good. He reached forward and touched the fang.

Adrian shuddered, a spasm starting in his back and traveling up and down his spine. One of his hands shot forward. The motion was strange and mechanical. He picked himself up. He drew his rapier. His face twisted to Trevor.

"Oh shit."

Purple energy bled out of the corners of Adrian's eyes, completely obscuring his gold irises. His head tilted to the side at a funny, uncomfortable angle. He pointed the blade at Trevor. Trevor noticed his feet were hovering a few inches above the ground.

Looking down was a mistake. Adrian flew forward, rapier aimed for Trevor's chest. Trevor avoided being skewered by inches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh boy. Trying to write third act twists is scary. Have I blindsided everyone?
> 
> So, I knew there was going to be a Carmilla fight over the fang. And I faced the serious problem of-- well, this is three on one. How do I make a fight like this interesting and suspenseful?
> 
> And, as ever, my solution was to do terrible things to Adrian.
> 
> *ehem* Chapter 40! Thanks so much for reading!


	41. Carmilla (Continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning- violence and injuries again (strangulation, some blood and some burns!. Oh, also a little bit of gendered language (b-slur). Stay safe friends!

"Fucking hell," Trevor said, "Adrian, you there?"

Adrian turned eerily, mid air, his free arm and head hanging uselessly. His blade hissed through the air as he surged forward again. 

"Don't make me do this!" Trevor said. He narrowly dodged. He spared a glance at Sypha. They hurled spells at Carmilla, who avoided them without seeming to move. She was laughing. 

"Trevor what's wrong?" Sypha called.

"She's got him under some kinda trance bullshit," Trevor shouted back. The rapier ripped up through his tunic. It missed his skin by inches. Trevor gritted his teeth. He drew his sword. Not the whip. Just the sword. Could he beat Adrian with just his sword? 

If he was honest with himself, he hadn't even beaten Adrian the first time.

Trevor parried the next strike. The force of Adrian's swing cracked up his arm. He grimaced. Inhuman strength. Trevor would only be able to take so many hits before he'd have to strike back. And he really didn't want to strike back. Adrian already looked like he was in agony.

"Stand still," Sypha hissed. Not at Trevor, he realized. They summoned a wall of ice that Trevor almost ran into as he backed away from Adrian's next swing. "Stand still and shut the fuck up."

Carmilla kept giggling. 

"Adrian?" Trevor said. He stabbed his sword forward. Adrian sidestepped. "If you're in there. If you can hear me. This'd be a great time. To stone the fuck up."

Girlish laughter was everywhere. Moonlight shone in wildly. It rendering everything in grey scale and silver. Sypha's magic sparked and crackled. Trevor's blade sang against Adrian's. The only color in the scene was Adrian's eyes, gleaming purple. His mouth hung slightly open. He looked pained, nightmarish. He lunged in at Trevor.

Trevor twisted around him. His hand grazed Adrian's back. If he could just remove the fang. His fingers touched bone. A chill crystallized up Trevor's arm. His suddenly numb hand fumbled.

Adrian twisted with a hiss. His free hand whipped forward, striking Trevor's chest. Trevor hurtled across the room. He slammed into the coffin in the center. 

"Ow."

Trevor groaned and picked himself up. His side hurt. That wasn't a good sign. 

"Adrian, please," he said, "Come on. You're in there somewhere, right?"

Adrian raised his sword and floated forward.

"Right. Sorry about this," Trevor said. He uncoiled his whip. The morningstar felt especially heavy in his hands. He threw it forward, and then flicked the whip towards Adrian in a practiced motion. In his defense, Trevor had been a vampire hunter his whole life. He'd only been Adrian's lover for about two days.

Adrian floated towards him, sword arm outstretched, his head lolling forward. The morningstar on the front of vampire killer smashed into his chest. He crumpled like a mannequin with the strings snapped. 

"Sorry," Trevor hissed. He surged towards Sypha, gathering up his whip. 

Carmilla retreated to face them both. She had stopped laughing. Her hands were outstretched. Trevor didn't wait. He lashed his whip at her. Carmilla phased away from it. Her shape blurred, a long shadow trailing her. Sypha yelled. They threw their hands forward. 

Sypha caught, not Carmilla, but a giant black cat. The thing shrieked as it hurtled into a wall of fire. 

"Ha!" Sypha called out. The cat curled around and bared its white, needle-sharp teeth at Sypha. Sypha gulped.

Something hurtled past Trevor. For one moment, Trevor's heart rose. Adrian dashed forward, sword raised. Everything was going to be okay- he'd survived Trevor's strike with Vampire Killer. He was whole, and upright, but also floating slightly off the floor, his free hand still hanging strangely to the side. Purple tendrils and rusty blood seeped from his back.

"Shit! Sypha! Look out!" 

Sypha dodged Adrian's blade, and a feline shadow barrelled into them. Carmilla's form had substance. It knocked Sypha to the ground. 

"Shit," Trevor said. He flicked his whip to force Carmilla off Sypha. An ashen hand reached forward and grabbed the leather.

"Let go," Trevor snarled. Adrian's hands sizzled as he gripped the whip. His face was a mask of pain. He tugged and Trevor was dragged forward. Trevor grimaced, dropped vampire killer, and grabbed his sword.

Adrian threw vampire killer aside. Whoever was in control of him didn't seem to have access to his magic, at least. He couldn't summon the blade to his hand from where he'd tossed it away to grab the whip. 

The giant cat purred. Trevor heard Sypha scream. He gulped and spared them a glance. The hulking creature had pinned their arms. Carmilla's claws sunk into Sypha's wrists. Trevor saw blood flow.

"Sypha!" Trevor called out. 

He should not have looked away. A pair of cold, strong, burned hands grabbed at Trevor. His sword was snatched out of his hands. Adrian got his arm around Trevor's throat. Trevor kicked backwards. Adrian didn't respond.

"Adrian," Trevor hissed. He put his hands on the arm constricting his throat. "You need to fight this."

"Nasty little curse death got on him, huh?" Carmilla cooed. She had returned to human form. She sat atop Sypha, clutching Sypha's bleeding wrists in one hand. She brushed Sypha's cheek with her other. Trevor watched as Sypha's movements became slower and heavier, their kicks and squirms exhausted. "Suppose he wanted him back in the fold, one way or another."

Trevor spluttered at her. 

"Now," Carmilla said. She moved back to Sypha's hands. She slid the ring off Sypha's finger. "These are mine."

"No," Sypha said. Their voice was syrupy from sleep.

Trevor searched around the room. His vision was going strange from loss of air. Shadows stretched into the moonlight. The colors blurred around him, purple in his peripheries from Adrian, red at Sypha's incapacitated wrists. The morningstar atop Vampire Killer gleamed in the silver light. It was so close and utterly unreachable. 

"Adrian," Trevor tried one more time. His own heartbeat was unbearably loud in his ears. His empty lungs were two pillars of flame inside his chest. "Please."

His kicks were weakening. He slammed into Adrian's thighs. 

"You- you have to be better than this,"

Adrian purred into his ear. He licked Trevor's neck. Trevor felt his lunge; Adrian's shift in footing to launch his body forward, his grip loosening slightly, his mouth opening. 

Instinct and training kicked in. Trevor put both hands on Adrian's arms. He ducked his head forward and hunched, letting Adrian roll over his back. It worked. Adrian tumbled over him with a hiss. 

Trevor dragged in a breath. He staggered towards Vampire Killer. 

"And the heart?" Carmilla demanded. She was still straddling Sypha. "Where have you put it?"

"Bitch," Sypha said.

Trevor heard Sypha scream. He gritted his teeth and stretched out his hand. He was so close, he could almost feel the holy word written into the handle. He refused to be beaten like this. Not when they had gotten so close.

He wrapped both hands around Vampire Killer. What would a hero do? There was always something clever, some brilliant solution that would fix the shitshow they were in. He had to think. 

"Idiot," Carmilla said, "You won't be able to bite him. Just kill him."

Adrian's head twitched. His arms jerked up. He flew at Trevor.

Trevor raised the whip and did the only thing that occurred to him. He brought the morningstar down, hard, onto Adrian's back. He felt the crunch of the impact. Purple energy burst out of Adrian. 

Adrian screamed. He fell into Trevor's arms. The force was tangible; a spell moving the air around them, driving it back. Trevor smelled ozone and decay in the air, and just as quickly the scents faded.

"No!" Carmilla shrieked.

"Shit," Trevor said. He caught Adrian. He was a rag doll in Trevor's arms.

"What have you-- you fool!" 

Suddenly, she appeared above them both. Trevor considered her vaguely, wondering if he could do anything against her when the world was still blurry and spinning above him like he was about to blackout, and Adrian was sprawled in his arms. 

She gaped at him, showing her teeth. Then she let out a hiss. She dug her hands into Adrian's back. Blood squirted everywhere. Adrian shuddered in Trevor's hold.

Carmilla snarled. She pulled out a rusted ivory shard. "What have you done?"

The fang, Trevor realized. He gulped. He'd destroyed the fang.

"You ruined us both," Carmilla said. She was almost laughing now. "You idiot."

Trevor blinked up at her. He got a hand free and flipped her off.

"The artifacts cannot be united. The portal cannot be sealed. How disappointing."

Sypha appeared over Carmilla's shoulder. They made a gesture that set the gouges on their wrists bleeding, and pointed a handful of fire at Carmilla. "I will incinerate you."

Carmilla giggled at them. "Well. Hope you like fighting demons."

She vanished in a cloud of mist that dissipated effortlessly into the moonlight. A silver ring clattered onto the floor.

"Oh shit," Trevor said. Realization struck him. "I- I ruined everything, didn't I?"

Adrian stirred in his arms. He tore himself upright with a gasp. His vision was clear and gold as he searched the room. He grimaced. "Owwwwww."

"Oh hell. Don't heal yet," Sypha said. They crouched at Adrian's back. "I'll get the shards out first."

"The shards?" Adrian rasped.

"I, uhh, fucked up," Trevor said. "I mighta really, really fucked up."

"Maybe we can put them back together?" Sypha said. 

"I smashed it with a holy weapon," Trevor said, "It- we can't fix that."

"What happened?" Adrian asked. He winced as Sypha pulled another long, narrow shard out. "I feel like I was stabbed and, uhh, kicked by an ox?"

"That's not wrong," Sypha said. They gulped and looked at Trevor. "Some of this is powder."

"Shit," Trevor said. He cradled Adrian's head.

"Could someone please tell me what happened?" Adrian said into his shoulder.

Trevor sighed. "Spooky vampire girl stabbed you with the fang. And then you went sorta funny."

"You were injured by death?" Sypha said. They pulled a much smaller shard out of Adrian's back. "And you didn't think to mention it?"

"Ow, oh, oh yeah." He gulped. "He possessed me, didn't he?"

"Don't think about it," Trevor recommended.

Adrian raised his head. "Did I hurt you? Did I hurt anyone? Sypha, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine," Sypha said. They shook their head. "You're the one beaten to shit."

"You keep doing this," Trevor said, "Do I need to give you blood again?"

"Don't you dare," Adrian said.

"What about me?" Sypha said. They offered their already bleeding wrist. 

Adrian shrank away from them, deeper into Trevor's hold. He trembled and Trevor wondered how much of his response was from pain and how much was hunger. "I don't want to be like this."

Trevor wrapped his arms around him. "Hey. You can go back to pigeons and rats when you're well enough to hunt them. And we aren't all in mortal danger."

"Show me what you showed Trevor," Sypha said. They brought their wrist closer. Trevor saw five deep, half circle scratches just below their wrist bones. 

Adrian looked up. He straightened his shoulders, steeling himself. He gingerly took Sypha's hand. He looked up at them. "I can, umm, clean these."

"Please do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I thought it would be much more fun to rehash the extremely sexy fight from Season 1 than have everyone beat up the creepy vampire girl. 
> 
> But, if you're reading to this point, you know my weaknesses. : P Adrian gets injured, Trevor gets to feel guilt/ shame and Sypha gets to be the reasonable and effective one (sorry Sypha). Although, Trevor does actually get to save the day this time. By making everything so much worse! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Four chapters left. Can you believe it? I can't. I'm freaking out. Thanks so so much to everyone leaving comments and kudos. I am halfway through writing the last chapter and you are seeing me through!


	42. Small Sacrifices

Trevor has seen vampires feed before. Usually as he was racing forward, whip in hand, trying to stop it. Technically, he'd seen Adrian feed before too. But this was different. 

First of all, Adrian was conscious this time, and awkward as he held Sypha's wrist in his burned hands. He tried to lap up the blood modestly, and it dribbled down his chin instead. 

"It's okay, Adrian," Sypha said, "Just, do what you have to do."

Adrian gulped. He opened his mouth and licked.

Trevor leaned back onto the floor with a small twinge of pain. He closed his eyes and focused on feeling the bandaged part of his side. He hurt. He was also oddly uncomfortable watching Adrian feed on someone else. Adrian had told him it wasn't a sex thing. Trevor was supposed to trust him. He needed to work on that.

Trevor shrugged. He decided that he was okay. Even if one of the slices on his hip had torn open, he wasn't bleeding through the bandages. 

"Here, Sypha," Trevor said. He cut bandages out of one of his sleeves and took their wrist as Adrian finished with it.

"Thanks," Sypha said, a little blankly. Their eyes were on Adrian. Their mouth was slightly open.

Adrian raised his head. "Sypha, I-- I appreciate--"

Sypha offered their other wrist to him. "Just drink. Heal."

Adrian cleaned the second set of wounds. Trevor focused on helping with the bandages. 

"Trevor, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Trevor said. He tied the bandages in place and looked up at Sypha. "He's amazing, isn't he?"

"Yes," Sypha conceded, "he is."

"Me?" Adrian said. His head jerked up. He stared from Sypha to Trevor. "I'm not- look at this," he said, gesturing at his face. He wiped blood from his chin. "Look at me."

"I'm looking," Trevor said. He ruffled Adrian's hair.

 

Sypha shook their head. "What a mess."

The pieces of Dracula's fang were spread out in front of them, covered in rusty blood. Sypha pressed them together, and swore when a thin shard of bone crumbled between their fingers. Their hands were shaking slightly. Their wrists were bandaged, but Trevor was willing to bet the deep gouges Carmilla had left still hurt.

"I fucked up," Trevor said, "I ruined everything."

Adrian didn't speak, but he shook his head. He leaned into Trevor's lap, shivering. Trevor wondered, vaguely, if he got like this after he fed. Just sort of soft and unwound, wanting to be held. 

"You did what you had to," Sypha said, "Carmilla was going to kill us. She'd almost won. Maybe- maybe we can close the portal some other way?"

Adrian shifted. He shook his head again. "Neither of you would survive in hell, even if we could find Dracula there."

Sypha looked at him. Their eyes went dull and their shoulders sank as the implications reached them. "So, we can't stop it. The horde will just keep coming, and coming. It won't matter how many we can kill."

"Do we still have the rest?" Adrian asked quietly.

Sypha sighed. They looked around and found the silver ring. They set it beside the shards of the fang. 

Trevor retrieved the rib and nail. He tossed them onto the floor. Adrian stretched forward, the dead eye in his hand, and placed it in a slight divot on the cobblestone where it wouldn't roll away. Sypha retrieved the box from their robes. They undid the latch and shivered as they lifted out the heart. 

The artifacts sat passively in the moonlight. Dead and useless, the whole objects surrounded the shards of the fang.

"I'm sorry," Trevor said. He squeezed Adrian tightly. "It was all I could think of to get you back."

Adrian shrugged. "Maybe we were doomed from the start, when I stabbed the eye."

"We were so fucking close," Trevor said, "I was really starting to believe, maybe there could be a happy end to all of this."

"I wonder," Adrian said. He kissed Trevor, and then rose out of his hold. He pulled a tiny, lead box out of his pocket. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps what?" Sypha asked. They lifted their head. 

Adrian knelt next to the artifacts. His hair was silver in the waning moonlight. He reached a long, delicate hand into the box. He retrieved his fang. He held the narrow, delicate spire up into the light.

"Do you think?" Sypha said.

Adrian paused. His hand trembled slightly. What were his fangs to him, after all? Were they a symbol of power, or a vulnerability, something that constantly exposed him as inhuman and other? What did it mean for him to give them up? Trevor shook his head. He hadn't thought about it before.

"It's worth a try," Adrian said. He placed the fang among the other artifacts.

Everyone held their breath. The fang rolled slightly on the cobblestones. It settled beside the rib with a scrap of bone against bone. 

The moonlight shifted. It was nearly dawn. The silver light faded, leaving the incomplete set of pieces in the dark, dead mausoleum. 

"No," Adrian said. He shook his head. "Of course not."

"Try both!"

Adrian turned to Trevor and raised an eyebrow. Sypha looked over like they'd forgotten Trevor was even here. 

Trevor gulped and ran a hand through his hair. "Cause you're only half of him, right? What if you gave both halves?"

Sypha snorted bitterly, but Adrian tilted his head, considering, "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

He retrieved the second fang and placed it beside the first.

The dimly lit scene turned red. Sypha gasped. Adrian stumbled backwards. Trevor leaned on the wall and stood up.

"You know, maybe we should have waited-"

A beam of red light screeched down through the broken ceiling. It struck the stone coffin in the center of the room. Sypha, who was nearest, leapt out of the way as blood pooled out into the crypt. It ran across the cracks in the cobblestone, spreading.

"Don't let it touch you!" Adrian said. He started to float.

Sypha nodded and made themselves a platform of ice.

Trevor growled, "Easy for you two." He backed away from the spread of blood, and collided with a wall. Trevor scrambled with the bricks behind him. The mortar was uneven. He found a first foothold and lifted himself off the stone just as blood started to flow. Fumbling for a handhold, Trevor lost his balance. He rocked forward, flailing his arms in the air. He stared down at the fine sheen of blood on the floor. He was a twisted reflection of his own face in the pool.

An arm like an iron bar steadied him.

"Floating vampire jesus," Trevor hissed.

Adrian chuckled. Something sizzled and popped behind him. Trevor craned his neck to look. Adrian's face turned grim again. His hand was still firmly on Trevor's chest. His fingers contracted tightly as he watched.

Blood coagulated around the pieces. The shapes melted into it, the heart and ring, nail and rib, eye and fangs dripping like tallow into the crimson. They faded in a last pop of bubbles surfacing.

Trevor gulped. He put an arm around Adrian's shoulder. "Here he comes."

The blood curled back into the central, stone coffin with a hiss. Adrian summoned his sword to his hand. Sypha started a spell with a splutter of energy. Trevor reached for his whip. 

The red light faded. The moonlight had waned completely. It was abruptly dark, just the light of Sypha's spell illuminating the room in eerie blue. 

Trevor heard stone scrap. The heavy lid of the coffin shifted. The hand that gripped the coffin's side was as grey and ancient as the stones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to tease- they guessed what would happen to Adrian's fangs back in chapter 26! tease, if you're reading this, you have no idea how much that comment both thrilled and terrified me. Good job!
> 
> Ready to meet Vlad, everyone?
> 
> Yeah, me neither. See you Tuesday. 
> 
> (And-- okay. Confession time. I know this is shallow, but Feb 14th is my worst day of the year. If you read this chapter, and you liked it and you have the time, a comment would mean a lot to me. <3)


	43. Dracula

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning- violence ahead. Also some Lisa death feels.

The mad warlord. The ancient vampire. The avatar of a rage that Trevor could fundamentally understand, someone that he had almost become himself. Except that he couldn't summon an unbeatable army of demons.

The coffin lid shifted and fell away with a bang. He rose, a regal grey face shrouded in black hair and his cloak like the wings of a bat. 

"Think it's too late to ask for his blessing?" Trevor hissed to Adrian.

"What?" Adrian said. He turned his head. "Is that really-- now?! You develop a sense of propriety now?"

Trevor shrugged. "Just, if this is our only chance."

"Adrian."

His voice was a low baritone that drew all of their eyes. He floated above the coffin, out towards the hole in the roof of the crypt. 

"Father," Adrian said. He stepped away from Trevor and moved towards the coffin. "It's time to end this."

Dracula blinked. His face was an aged likeness of Adrian's, lined and deep set with pain and rage. His eyes were red. He considered his son, and then looked past him. His head jerked to Trevor. 

"Belmont!" he roared. He flew forward.

"Shit," Trevor said. He dived out of the way. Dracula slammed into the stones he'd been clutching. He broke through the wall and emerged with a snarl. All Trevor saw was his smouldering eyes in the dust as he lunged for him.

Sypha cried out. A wall of ice appeared between them. Trevor expected Dracula to break through it like the barrier was glass. He tensed, ready to dodge a swipe or spell.

Instead, Dracula froze. His mouth went slack, showing fangs. He blinked and his eyes were black. He turned his head in Sypha's direction.

Adrian charged in, sword raised. Dracula swatted him away like an insect. His eyes were on Sypha. "Lisa?" he croaked.

Sypha's eyes went fuzzy. They let out a gasp. Their hands fell to their sides, a spell sputtering out. "Vlad?"

Trevor gaped. The air around them hummed with magic. It made his nose itch.

"My- my love," Dracula said. Adrian and Trevor were forgotten. He crossed the room, his feet barely scraping on the uneven cobblestones.

Trevor sidestepped the ice barrier. He looked at Adrian, who shakily rose from where Dracula had thrown him. Adrian watched, wide-eyed. He pressed a hand over his mouth. There were red drops forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Lisa," Dracula said. His voice cracked. "I thought I'd lost you." He reached out his hand.

Sypha took a step back. Coldness fell over their face. They spoke with a voice that wasn't their own. Trevor shivered. He had some small experience on the receiving end of weird interactions with the dead you'd loved. This wasn't going to go well. He held vampire killer ready. A ghost's voice, Lisa's voice, resounded from Sypha.

"What have you done, Vlad?"

Dracula froze. His hand hung in the empty air between them. "What?"

"You've unleashed hell on the people I loved," Lisa said, "You've betrayed me. And everything I believed in."

Dracula recoiled as though he'd been struck.

"I told you to be better than this. Better than them."

"Men," Dracula snarled, "They stole you from me. They deserved the fate I've given them."

"Who deserved it? You're slaughtering innocents. You nearly killed our son."

Trevor heard a sob. His eyes were brought back to Adrian as he sank to his knees. He dropped his sword and put his head in his hands.

This hadn't been the kind of fight Trevor expected. Nor the type he was good at. He felt like he was intruding on a family argument. This was not how confrontations with monsters usually went. He inched towards Adrian. Sypha, or Lisa, or someone, seemed to be handling Dracula pretty well at the moment.

"I- this was for you," Dracula said. He took a halting step forward, clutching his heart. "Everything I've done has been for you."

"For me? Or for you, and your rage, and to confirm everything you've believed about humans to justify your own atrocities?"

"I-"

"Enough, Vlad. You have lost me twice over. You need to end this."

Dracula fell to his knees. He stared up at Sypha, the anger on their face, the disappointed and determined line of their jaw. He was a mass of black in front of them, the cape trailing out, his shoulders slumped and defeated. 

"I can't," he rasped, "I cannot unmake the portal without--"

"I know," Lisa said. Sypha's look softened. "You have to be brave for me, my love. It's time."

"I don't want to die."

Sypha stepped forward. They put a hand on Dracula's broad shoulders. "After this is over, Vlad, come and find me. We can begin again."

They knelt and embraced him. "Come and find me, Vlad. Come and--"

They broke off with a gasp. Sypha's head jerked up. Their eyes were suddenly clear. They let go of Dracula and stumbled back. Their mouth contorted into an open grimace. When they spoke, it was in their own voice again. "What did you do to me?!"

"What?"

Dracula looked up slowly. The shift in him was terrifying. He rose to his feet and seemed to fill the room. "You are not Lisa," he snarled, "Imposter!"

Shit. Trevor ran forward. He stretched out vampire killer, preparing to strike. He heard Adrian forcing himself upright behind him. He charged at Dracula. 

Dracula turned his head at the last moment. He smirked. He vanished, and a pillar of flame shot out, blasting Trevor back. Trevor staggered, blinking, struggling to see. Dracula had vanished.

Suddenly, a black shadow solidified behind Sypha. Dracula gripped their face in a clawed hand. He laughed. "What cruel, clever deceit," he said, "Now, little witch, I kill you." He put his other hand on their forehead. There was a crackle of black energy and Sypha crumpled with a scream.

Adrian appeared in a flash of red color. He grabbed his father by the shoulders and tore him off Sypha. 

Sypha fell forward onto the floor.

Trevor ignored the smarting burns on his face. He ran forward. This time, vampire killer made contact. It struck Dracula's stomach. At the same moment, Adrian lunged with his sword. It ran up through Dracula's chest, the dripping blade thrust out his center. 

Dracula laughed again. Adrian had missed his heart.

Dracula disappeared in another column of flame. Adrian yelled as he was thrown back. Sypha didn't respond. They rolled across the rough floor, their limbs limp. 

Trevor gritted his teeth. He ran to Sypha. He gripped their wrist. He couldn't feel a pulse there. He swore and reached in with shaking hands. He put a gentle hand on their neck. There, he felt the weak thrum of their heartbeat against his fingers.

Alive. They were alive. 

Trevor shook his head. One attack had done that. He had never seen a vampire with this kind of power before. Dracula was practically unaffected by the holy silver of vampire killer. Adrian had almost struck his heart and he hadn't seemed to feel it.

"Why, Adrian?"

The question echoed through the crypt. It came from everywhere. 

"What?" Adrian called out. He was still on his feet, eyes scanning the dark corners of the room for where Dracula would reappear. 

"Why did you let her die?"

The billowing black cloak pulled out of the shadows behind him. Trevor called out a warning a second too late. Dracula enveloped his son in darkness. He grabbed Adrian's arms and shook him. 

"I told you to look after her," he said, "Keep her safe while I traveled."

Adrian blinked desperately. Red tears rolled down his face. He winced when Dracula dug his nails into his arms. Adrian's sword dropped.

"Where were you when she burned?" Dracula demanded.

Blood seeped from Adrian's eyes and from his fingers in streams as Dracula sunk his nails into Adrian's forearms.

"Why didn't you protect her?" Dracula said.

"Be-" Adrian sobbed, "Because she told me not to."

"What?" Dracula demanded. He twisted Adrian around.

"She- she wanted to live among humans again," Adrian said.

"You could have saved her," Dracula said.

He threw Adrian to the floor and landed on top of him. Adrian twisted his body around to face his father. He gasped. Dracula raised his hand.

"I'm sorry-" Adrian said, "She- she could live in your shadow. But not in mine."

Dracula's taloned hand curled. Trevor suddenly understood how Adrian had gotten his dramatic, chest slashing scar.

A shard of ice struck Dracula's hand before he could attack. Trevor looked down. Sypha picked themselves up, another spell already in hand. 

Trevor nodded. He threw his whip at Dracula. This time, it wound around Dracula's torso, pinning his right hand in place. His left was still raised, his fingers extended, his nails deadly sharp.

"And now what?" Dracula spat, "You conspire with a witch and a Belmont to kill me?"

Trevor dragged at vampire killer, trying to get Dracula off of him. Sypha cried out, summoning more ice. Deadly sharp hail sliced into Dracula's face and shoulders. He didn't seem to notice. He stared down at Adrian with fire licking out of the edges of his eyes.

"Why?" he snarled.

Adrian looked up at him. He was still weeping. "Because it is what she would have wanted."

Dracula howled. He brought his free hand down and ripped into Adrian's chest.

"Fuck," Trevor said. He gave up on vampire killer and ran forward, drawing his sword. The crypt resounded with Adrian's screams. Sypha got to Dracula first. They put their hands on either side of Dracula's head. They yelled out and buried his face in fire.

Trevor slashed at Dracula's hand. He struck flesh. He bit into bone. And still he heard fabric and skin ripping as Dracula tore Adrian open.

Adrian's screams were overshadowed by Dracula's, before the latter's waivered off into a gurgle under Sypha's torrent of fire. His hand slowed. 

Trevor sidestepped, pulled back his blade and aimed for Dracula's heart. The creature before him was neither human nor vampire. Trevor saw bone and black bile under the flames. His bloodied hand was a claw. His warped scream bit into Trevor's spine, a dark incantation that sent shivers over his body. Adrian was silent and still under him. Trevor heard Sypha panting, struggling to maintain their barrage of fire. 

They spoke through gritted teeth, "Do it, Trevor! Do it!"

Trevor threw himself, and the blade, forward. He aimed just inches right of the stab wound Adrian had made, dead center in Dracula's chest. His blade struck bone, ground through it, went past and squelched into flesh.

Dracula spluttered. He exclaimed something incomprehensible in the hiss of fire. His hand stopped. His body jerked, sinking further onto Trevor's blade. Then it fell back, out of the fire and onto Sypha's lap.

He was unrecognizable, charred to ash and bone. As he titled back, the empty sockets of his eyes seemed to still see. Somehow, he hissed one last word as he fell into Sypha's arms. 

"Lisa."

He collapsed with a thud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay okay, but seriously? Where was Alucard? When Lisa was executed? Why didn't he save her? 
> 
> I mean, cause if she lived there wouldn't be a plot. But STILL
> 
> Anywho, I've decided Trevor's primary role in fights is to make sure Adrian and Sypha don't die. 
> 
> Oh, had to update the chapter count one last time. We have three chapters left. Two will be proper epilogue. But first we need to wrap things up on Thursday.
> 
> Thanks for reading/ commenting/ kudo-ing!


	44. Sleep

"Did we do it? Is he really dead?" Sypha said.

Trevor didn't hear. He dragged Adrian out from under Dracula's corpse. He gulped. Adrian's chest was ripped open. Trevor could see his ribs. His eyes were closed.

"Adrian?" Trevor asked. Speaking split open his burnt face. With the adrenaline wearing off, he also felt his side throbbing where wounds had undoubtedly been torn back open. Trevor didn't care. He stared at Adrian's chest, trying to wrap his head around the damage.

"Sunlight," Adrian wheezed.

"What?"

Adrian's eyes flicked open. "Sunlight, on the body. A-and cut off the head."

Trevor looked up. He hadn't noticed that dawn had arrived. A meager pool of light shown through the broken ceiling, casting the crypt in dead shades of brown and grey instead of unearthly silver.

"Okay," Trevor said, "I'll be right back. Don't die."

Adrian smiled weakly.

Sypha was already dragging the body into the light. Trevor helped them. Dracula had moved with such eerie lightness in life, but the corpse was unbearable dead weight.

"You alright?" Trevor asked Sypha.

They shook their head. Trevor noticed their robes were scorched, and burned through in one spot at the shoulder to reveal raw, red skin underneath. But they rubbed their temples instead. "I have a terrible headache."

Laughing hurt Trevor's face.

They set Dracula in the pool of light. Trevor drew a dagger. He held it in both hands and thrust down, severing the spine in a neat movement. Cutting through the burned flesh of the neck was far less pleasant, but after a moment he had the head separated from the body.

"So is something supposed to happen, or?"

Trevor was interrupted by a deafening scream. It wasn't from Dracula. He looked up, confused. More than that, the sound wasn't human. It was not the screech of a demon, nor the howl of a vampire. The scream hung through the air, unnaturally long, the agony of bending steel and creaking gears, electricity flaring and stone grinding. He'd heard it before, in Arges.

Trevor looked through the hole in the ceiling. His eyes adjusted to the light in time to see the castle collapsing like a body rendered senseless. It sunk in on itself and black specks in the sky were dragged down with it, forced to the earth.

The demons, Trevor realized. The portal was collapsing, bringing the castle and its monsters with it. He gulped.

The screaming stopped abruptly. The ground was still. Warm light bathed Trevor's face. There was silence. It was over.

He looked down. Two piles of ashe lay in the light at his feet. That was all that was left.

"People are coming," Adrian hissed.

Trevor looked over at him and swore under his breath. Adrian was trying to sit up. He held his chest and panted at the effort of rising.

Sypha looked over. "People? Who would possibly be out here?" They cautiously slipped into the entryway.

Trevor got to Adrian and gently pressed him back to the floor. "Idiot. Easy. It's done."

Adrian nodded. "It is. I think it finally is."

Trevor looked at his chest and gulped. "So, blood?"

Adrian shook his head. "Even if you were well enough to offer, blood won't fix this."

"What?" Trevor said.

Adrian looked at him. "Don't worry Trevor. I'm not going to die. I just- need to sleep."

Trevor squeezed his hand.

They both raised their heads when Sypha called out from the corridor. Trevor drew a dagger on instinct. Then he recognized Sypha's tone. They hadn't called out in fear, or anger, or pain, but in joy.

"Grandfather!" Sypha yelled.

"Sypha!" 

Trevor squinted. Haloed in the morning light at the other side of passage, blue cloaked figures were embracing Sypha. The speakers. They were here.

"Trevor?" Adrian wheezed, "I need your help."

"Yes. Of course," Trevor said.

Adrian pointed to the left. Trevor looked over and groaned. His long, grey finger motioned for the stone coffin in the center of the crypt.

"Does it have to be here?" Trevor said.

Adrian sighed. "Nowhere else left."

"Dammit," Trevor said. He cradled Adrian, and then picked him up. The coffin was open and waiting. Trevor heard the speakers heading into the crypt. 

"How did you find us?" Sypha asked.

Trevor heard the shrug in their grandfather's voice. "We received a vision and headed South. We weren't certain why we'd been brought here. Then the castle appeared last night."

Trevor looked into the coffin. It was empty, even of dust. The stone looked harsh and cold.

"I'll be okay," Adrian told him.

Trevor lowered him into his father's empty tomb.

Adrian sighed. He shifted slightly, winced, and then put his arms across his chest. He looked up at Trevor. "Would you get my sword?"

"Yeah," Trevor said, in a hollow kind of voice.

He scanned the room, looking for where Adrian had dropped it. The speakers were in the corridor now, and their voices echoed strangely. Trevor wondered if this was easier for Adrian. He wouldn't have to see the fear in the speakers faces, wouldn't have to be injured and inhuman in front of them. 

Trevor cursed circumstances as he picked up Adrian's rapier. He returned to the coffin.

Adrian already had his eyes closed. But he opened them when Trevor put the sword at his side. "I'll sleep for a year," he said. He gulped. "After that-- I would love to see you again."

"Yeah," Trevor said. He wasn't good at this goodbye stuff. He squeezed Adrian's shoulder. 

Adrian raised a shaky hand. He caressed the side of Trevor's face. 

Trevor closed his eyes. He had no cause to be bitter. They'd survived. Dracula was defeated. They were so damn lucky. But it always seemed to happen like this; he never got a chance to brace himself for the losses, they always struck him from behind. 

"Trevor?" Adrian said.

Trevor blinked. It had been "Belmont", once, coldly stated. When had he become "Trevor" to Adrian? He couldn't remember. 

Adrian tried to lift himself up. His brows knit together. "Before you go, could I--?" He broke off and let out a small hiss, clutching his chest.

"Yeah? What do you need?"

"A kiss?"

Trevor felt his face turn warm. He put his hands on the stone and leaned in. He pressed a kiss to Adrian's lips. 

"Sleep well," Trevor said. He leaned back slowly, trying to linger on the feeling of Adrian's hand running across his cheek. It was selfish of him. Adrian was injured. The speakers were fast approaching. Trevor gritted his teeth. He had to be responsible. He found the lid of the coffin, and heaved it back in place.

He collected his weapons, and joined Sypha and the speakers. 

They returned to the world, a group of travelers in and around the same wagon Sypha's grandfather had purchased in Gresit what felt like a lifetime ago. When Trevor did the math, though, he realized it had only been two weeks before. This whole journey had taken them a fortnight. 

The Wallachia they found was reeling. The demons had vanished, torn away from the mortal world when the portal had collapsed. But the cities they traveled through were burned and shaken. There were buildings to rebuild, fields to replant in anticipation of a belligerent thaw, dead to bury and the injured to heal. 

In short, there was work to be done. A years work, and far more. Trevor threw himself into the aid he could offer with as much enthusiasm as any of the speakers, although a little less experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out its hard to convincingly kill a vampire with a reputation for returning to life over and over. Ah well. He just needs to be dead enough for the purposes of this fic.
> 
> Adrian deserves a rest, right?
> 
> (This isn't the end. Epilogue chapters next week).
> 
> EDIT- Comments and kudos appreciated as ever!


	45. Epilogue (One Year Later)

"Trevor, you're fussing."

Trevor made a rude gesture at Sypha. He adjusted his cloak again. He ran a hand through his hair.

"It's just- what if he doesn't want to see us again, you know? Not like it was happy times, us all killing his dad together."

Sypha rolled their eyes. "Then we'll politely leave. But he asked you to come back, remember?"

"Well, yeah," Trevor said. He started to pace again. "Oh god. Is he gonna have even more scars now? What if he's still injured?"

"Trevor?"

"What if he's thirsty?"

"Trevor, coffin."

Trevor turned his head just in time to see the lid shift.

In one small year, the crypt had transformed. Creeping vines trailed in through the hole in the ceiling and draped down into the gloom. Layers of moss had grown into the cracks between the stones on the floor. One of the side corridors have caved in, flooding more light into the room. It was as though nature and time had finally reached this place.

So when Adrian rose, it was into a diffuse green light that cast life into his grey face. He floated up until his legs cleared the coffin. His head brushed a hanging vine.

Trevor couldn't help it. He was staring. Adrian was somehow more radiant and beautiful than he remembered. Under the rips in his shirt, he just had one, narrow pink scar. He was the same strange man Trevor and Sypha had found in Gresit.

Adrian raised his head. He opened his eyes. His gold gaze fixed on Trevor.

"You came back," he said. He laughed lightly and it echoed through the room. Trevor realized the one way in which he had changed. His fangs were still gone. Trevor felt a knot he hadn't even noticed in his stomach loosen.

"Course I did," Trevor said.

Adrian floated down into his arms. He was so light, ethereal in Trevor's hold. It had been so long, and here he was. He couldn't be real.

Trevor was laughing too. He pressed his lips to Adrian's exposed and whole stomach. "Slept well?"

"Not really, no," Adrian said. A shadow fell over his face. "It's good to be awake again."

He descended. Trevor kissed his way up his chest. Adrian leaned Trevor's head back and explored his lips with his lukewarm mouth.

Sypha coughed loudly.

Trevor flipped them off, but Adrian, of course, raised his head. "Sypha. How rude of me. Hello."

Trevor wrapped a hand around Adrian's head and brought him down for another kiss. In Trevor's defense, Adrian definitely leaned into his grip. Trevor couldn't move him unless he wanted to be moved.

As though to prove it, Adrian gently pulled Trevor's hands from his head and waist. His feet reached the floor and he stepped towards Sypha. "How are you?"

"Not bad," Sypha said, "It's been quite a year."

"I'd imagine. A year is a long time for humans."

"Adrian, you won't believe this. They're a fucking politician now."

"Rude," Sypha said. They glared at Trevor. Trevor grinned back at them.

Adrian laughed. "What? Sypha, you're governing?"

"No, no," Sypha said, "I just might have accidentally become the new headman of Gresit."

"Accidently?"

Trevor chuckled. "It's a long story. Can we talk on the way to the wagon?"

"Wagon?" Adrian asked, "Are we off on another journey?"

Trevor gulped. All his anxieties sprang back up. What if Adrian didn't want this? What if he didn't want him? He was suddenly terrified to ask.

Sypha chimed in. "He's built you a place to stay. And he's been fretting over it for months and I think you'll break his heart if you don't at least agree to come see it." They grinned at Trevor. 

Trevor scowled at them.

"A place to stay?" Adrian asked vaguely. 

"Yeah. You know, if you want." 

Adrian blinked. He looked back at the coffin. He sighed. "That sounds-- nice."

 

Sypha fished through the saddle bags and got him a new shirt. They filled him in on the journey west. 

Trevor sat at the head of the wagon, listening to Sypha and Adrian catch up in the back. He didn't want to intrude. He didn't want to overwhelm Adrian after he'd just woken up. He'd just give him space. He'd give him time.

"Okay. How did you 'accidentally' end up in charge of Gresit?"

Sypha chuckled. "The Codrii speakers went back to help with rebuilding. Except it turned into more of an excavation."

"Excavation?" Adrian asked, "Oh. My keep."

"Yeah. No one seemed to know what to do with what they'd found. I didn't think you'd care about all the gears and metal, but some of the finer technology-"

"Like the coffin?"

"They're at the Belmont estate now," Sypha said, "I hope that isn't weird. Trevor's worked really hard on it."

Adrian laughed. "That is a little strange. So, he went back home and rebuilt things?"

"Yeah. He's been given the land back. The church is in shambles right now-- the new bishop is trying to save face, I think. And Trevor gave Arges hell until he got his family's stuff back."

"Ah. Does that mean our dear friend the captain-?"

"She's alive," Trevor called over his shoulder, "Both of you soft idiots let her live and I figured I had the least cause for revenge, so-"

He paused. He gulped. "Adrian, if you want to go kill her just say the word. We can stop there on our way."

He was rewarded by another of Adrian's laughs. Even Sypha chuckled. 

"Okay. So you recovered some of my property. How did you become headman?"

"Well, it was just so frustrating," Sypha said, "No one had a clue what we should do, especially as the excavation was getting deeper and deeper. We had a camp set up a half mile away on good, firm land and I was the one who proposed we just rebuild there. I mean, why live in tents when we had all these supplies just available around us?"

"I thought speakers liked living in tents."

"Right. And vampires like sleeping in coffins?" Sypha asked, "Or is it by necessity?"

"Ah. You've made your point."

 

They camped on the road that night. Sypha glowered at this. 

"If we'd gone just a little faster, we could've slept at an inn," they said as they started a fire on the kindling Trevor had collected.

"Sure," Trevor said, "But where's the fun in that?"

Adrian said nothing. He kept his eyes on the fire as it caught. He merely raised an eyebrow when Trevor volunteered to take first watch. Sypha sulked off to the wagon to sleep.

"Is a watch necessary?" Adrian asked, "Things seem quiet. No monsters."

Trevor sat beside Adrian. "I'm not worried about monsters."

Adrian looked at him. He wasn't surprised. Trevor had simply confirmed his suspicions. "Humans, then? Is that why we didn't stop at an inn?"

"Considering what happened last time?" Trevor said, "Yeah. I'm a little fucking weary of inns. And people. I don't think Sypha gets that."

"You're trying to protect me," Adrian said. He laughed. Trevor put a hand around his shoulder. Adrian leaned in. "You- you didn't rebuild your family home just for me, did you?"

"I dunno," Trevor said, "Maybe I just wanted to go home. Maybe I just wanted a place to rest."

Adrian shivered. Trevor looked down, a little surprised. A shadow fell on Adrian's face, something separate from the firelight. "Rest," he said.

"What is it like, to sleep for a whole year?"

"Terrible. It was an endless circuit of nightmares and memories," he said, "if I have to grieve, I'd rather do it awake."

He looked up, considering Trevor. "I'd rather do it with you."

"Grieve, with me, or?"

Adrian rolled his eyes. He leaned in and rested his head on Trevor's leg. "Yes, but also other things."

"As in sex?" Trevor said, "Is sex what we're talking about right now?"

"Crude, Trevor."

 

The iron fence was original. All Trevor had needed was an ironsmith to replace the part of the gate that had been smashed open. He'd replicated the original crest well, one dragon and half of a cross just slightly shinier than the other. In time, they would look the same.

Adrian clambered to the front of the wagon. Even Sypha, who had seen parts of the construction, raised their head to look. 

Trevor opened the gate and led the wagon in. 

Not everything had burned. He hadn't considered that; hadn't contemplated that there might have been something worth coming back to until he discovered what the people of Arges had stolen. Even if what remained had mostly been scavenged, and even if everything left had smouldered and decayed for more than a year, he hadn't started with nothing. Finally able to reclaim his title and a small family fortune, Trevor had hired workmen to resurrect his family home. The main hall and the armory, which had born the brunt of the fire, had to be completely cleared and rebuilt. But the living chambers, the kitchens, the stables and more were salvageable.

There was still scaffolding visible around incomplete wood and stone walls. Trevor would call the workers back soon. Right now, they were too busy with the first planting of spring. That suited Trevor. He needed time too.

It wasn't complete yet. But this was a start. Trevor swallowed a lump of pride and pain as he presented his old home.

"The library," he said, pointing right of the main hall. "Mostly restoked now, with what the captain stole. Some sleeping chambers. A kitchen and pantry. I'm still trying to decide whether I want to rebuild the banquet hall. It feels-- excessive?"

He gulped and looked back to Adrian and Sypha.

"So what do you think? I mean, it's not a magical, traveling castle, but-" He waived vaguely at the building.

Adrian looked up at the manor. He considered the grand pine doors waiting for them. He turned to Trevor. "You're saying I can stay here?" he said.

Trevor nodded. "In fact, would you? At least, consider it? It's strange, being alone somewhere you're used to being loud and full of people, you know?"

Adrian opened his mouth. He closed it again. 

"The library? Is it finished?" Sypha asked.

"Here," Trevor said. He opened the pine doors. "I'll give you guys the tour. Just, uh, don't expect much. It's a work in progress."

It felt right, Trevor decided, to have people here. They weren't the Belmonts, and he wouldn't expect Sypha's exclamations and Adrian's murmurs to fill the halls of his old home in the same way. He walked them through the mostly finished, but empty great hall. He led them to a side passage, pointing at rooms and explaining what would be there, what had been there. He opened a few doors, revealing a small infirmary and a couple storage rooms. He showed them a hall that would eventually connect to the armory.

"It isn't- what it was," Trevor said, "But maybe it shouldn't be. Does that make sense?"

"I think they'd be proud of you," Sypha said. They grinned. "Now show us the library already."

Trevor rolled his eyes. "You just want to be sure I'm taking care of the books."

"And read them," Sypha said.

"This is all from that secret basement of yours?" Adrian asked.

"Yes," Sypha said. Their eyes glittered. "Some of the tombs are fascinating. Although, maybe disturbing is a better word. Especially for you. I was helping Trevor organize and we found a book about the applications of garlic, and-"

"Sypha? Could you not terrify him before he even sees it?" Trevor said. He got to the end of the hall and opened the door, inviting both of them through.

The library was grand. The old one had been too, although Trevor had barely spent any time in it. He had never been interested in books. But the only undisturbed part of the Belmont manor had been its underground library. He'd had the book cases brought up. Some of the old family portraits had also survived. An imposing painting of Leon stood watch over the shelves. It was the part that felt the most finished, and the most like the home Trevor remembered.

Sypha whistled. "Not bad." They went off to inspect the books. Of course, they'd been the one lecturing Trevor about keeping so much paper and leather in a damp, sealed off basement. 

Trevor crossed the room. There was a nook with two comfy chairs beside the fireplace. He picked the last of the kindling from the rack next to the hearth and started a fire.

At some point, maybe Trevor would relax enough to hire on servants, or a housekeeper. But he wasn't ready yet. So he'd have to go out and chop his own firewood soon.

He looked back once the fire had caught on a properly-sized log. Sypha had three books off the shelves already. They were sitting under a marble bust of some Belmont ancestor who'd lost his nose. Trevor shook his head. Were they really trying to read all three books at once?

Trevor scanned the room for Adrian, and found him still in the doorway. Shit. Trevor left the warmth around the fireplace. 

"Do I, uhh, need to invite you in?" Trevor asked.

Adrian didn't answer. His eyes were unfocused. Trevor followed his gaze, and looked up at the intimidating portrait on the wall. 

"Leon," Adrian said.

Trevor looked from the painting of his ancestor, back to Adrian. 

"That's him, isn't it?" Adrian said. 

"I mean, yeah. The famous Belmont patriarch," Trevor said. He squinted at the portrait. "Personally, I thought he always looked a little constipated."

Adrian snorted. He shook his head. "I don't belong here."

"I mean, the Belmont line is famous for killing vampires and you did, you know, kill Dracula, so--"

Adrian made a choked sound. He collapsed to the floor. 

"Fuck," Trevor said, "Words. Shit. Adrian?"

Sypha was at Adrian's side immediately. They hesitated for a moment and then put a hand on Adrian's shaking shoulder. "Trevor, what did you do?"

"I didn't mean to- stupid. Stupid," Trevor said, gritting his teeth. Of course Dracula would be a sore subject. For Adrian, that had only happened a few days ago.

Sypha looked up at Trevor. "Don't just stand there. Hold him."

"Oh. Yeah," Trevor said. He sat down on Adrian's other side. He pulled the hair out of Adrian's face, and put a comforting hand on his cheek.

"I just- raced into this," Adrian gasped, "trying to do the right thing. Found both of you. Rushed to the castle."

He took in a long, rattling breath. "I killed him. My father."

"Only the worst part of him," Sypha said, in the gentle kind of voice that people who were good at giving comfort used, "He was in pain. You helped end that."

"You did good, Adrian." 

They held him together. Adrian wept.

 

Sypha left that afternoon. They made their apologies, borrowed several books, and promised they'd be back soon. Trevor helped them load up the wagon. Then they dragged Trevor aside and pointed a warning finger at him.

"You've got to go easy on him," they said.

Trevor blinked at them. "Go easy on him? Sypha, I don't know what you-"

"He's grieving," Sypha said, "And he's very clearly smitten with you. That makes him vulnerable."

"I know that he's-- wait. Smitten? With me?"

Sypha sighed. "I swear, Trevor. If I find a bat squirming under my shutter in Gresit a week from now- Just, be careful with him." They shook their head and started harnessing the mule.

"I'm grieving too, you know."

Trevor winced. He'd practically shouted it at Sypha's back. 

Sypha turned. "I know, Trevor. I haven't forgotten." 

"And I know it's different for him. And I dunno if I can help. But I want to try."

Sypha half smiled. "I think you two could be good for each other. You just need to be- less pig headed."

"I'm gonna do my best," Trevor said. He helped Sypha saddle up. 

Sypha gave him a hug. "I know." 

 

Trevor returned to the library. He found Adrian curled in a chair, his legs hanging off one side. He had a book in his lap, but it was closed.

"Will they be safe?" he asked.

"Who? Sypha?"

He nodded. "Wasn't Gresit trying to kill the speakers?"

"They were afraid," Trevor said, "They didn't know how to stop the horde and the church gave them a convenient scapegoat."

"And what if they become afraid again?" Adrian asked, "The next time there's a plague, or a bad harvest, or a monster attack?"

"Sypha's smart. I trust them to get out of there before the mob comes."

Adrian sighed. "My mother didn't. Your family didn't. Are we just going to let the people we care about risk their lives on human fears and superstitions over and over?"

"I guess for Sypha it's about believing people can change. That we can do better- understand the world, put aside fear."

Adrian tilted his head. "Do you believe that?"

"No," Trevor said, "But if Sypha's ever in trouble, I'll be there."

"Me too. I suppose that has to be good enough."

Trevor nodded.

"What about you?"

Trevor settled into the opposite chair. "Me?"

"After you're finished rebuilding this place. What will you do? A noble's life of leisure doesn't suit you."

"The leisure hadn't been so bad, actually," Trevor said, "Beds. Regular meals. Bathing, even. It's been nice. And there will always be monsters to hunt, even with Dra- even with the horde gone."

"Am I a monster, for mourning him?"

Trevor winced. "Adrian that wasn't what I meant. And, no. I mourned my father-- even though he kicked me out."

"What?" Adrian said. He looked up. "He-- out of your home?"

"Shit," Trevor said, "You haven't heard this story, have you? That, that's the only reason I wasn't put to the stake with the rest of the family."

"Why there were no other Belmonts to fight Dracula," Adrian said quietly.

"Yeah. I-- here. I can explain."

 

By the end of the story, the fire had smouldered out to a couple of cinders, and Adrian was sitting in Trevor's lap. Trevor had tried to start at the beginning, and of course that meant talking about the balls he'd hated and the cute boys that attended them, the first time a servant caught him with another noble's son in a broom closet. It meant talking about the shame that he was still working to let go.

That was when Adrian had stood up, walked over, and wrapped his arms around Trevor. Now, he lay curled like a cat, his legs folded together over Trevor's, his back leaning on the arm rest. Even after Trevor stopped talking, Adrian held onto his hands.

"They're gone," Adrian said, "Your family, and mine. Gone."

"Yeah," Trevor said. He shifted slightly. Adrian was ridiculously light on top of him, and it was easy to scoot so that he could kiss his cheek.

Adrian twisted his head, catching Trevor in the act and finding his lips with his own. 

"We would have been-- enemies," Adrian said.

"Adrian, I don't know how to tell you this, but I kinda hated you, at the beginning."

Adrian chuckled. "Oh, I assure you it was mutual."

"Ah, well, fuck you and your pretentious vampire bullshit, in that case."

Trevor was rewarded with another kiss. 

"But--" Adrian continued, his voice slightly lower and thicker now, "They're gone and we can make our own choices. Would you really be okay with me staying here?"

Trevor groaned, "For the third damn time, yes. In fact, come on. I have something to show you."

Adrian uncurled from his lap. He stepped lightly onto the floor.

"You do know how to sit on a chair, right?" Trevor asked.

"What?"

"You know, like a normal person?"

Adrian sniffed. "If I must."

Trevor chuckled. He crossed the room to the noseless bust of the unknown Belmont that Sypha had been sitting under barely an hour before. 

"Trevor?"

Trevor put his hands on either side of the base of the bust. He grunted. "Now, it takes some doing. But I figured that wouldn't be a problem for you." He twisted the column. Under the grinding of the stone, something clicked. 

Adrian turned immediately, stepping away from a bookcase as it shifted aside.

"It's not perfect," Trevor said, "You probably could've done a better job. Spooky hidden passages aren't really a Belmont thing. But I thought this would be a good start." 

He met Adrian in front of the dark passage behind the bookcase. 

"What is this?"

"Well, it used to be the entrance to the hidden library," Trevor said. He bowed to him and indicated the passage. "But, now? Come see."

Adrian gulped. He started down the stairway. Trevor followed him. 

"Oh. Oh, Trevor, you-"

He stopped at the last step. He could see in the dark, right? For Trevor, the room past the steps was bathed in shadows. Trevor glared up at the strange blue torches, which he had disassembled, studied, and remounted on the walls but couldn't make work. 

In the gloom, Trevor could just see the vague gleam of gold gilt in the center of the stone chamber. 

"From Gresit?" Adrian asked.

"Yeah," Trevor said. He tapped at one of the blue sconces, and it flickered, turned on, cast dim blue light into the room. It was not half as grand as Adrian's private chambers beneath the city, and Trevor hadn't tried to replace the glass vats of blood he'd had behind the coffin. But the coffin itself was there, the heavy stone base set at a slight angle on the floor. 

Adrian sank to his knees again. His shoulders heaved, and his head started to fall.

Shit. Trevor had the good sense this time to hurry forward instead of panicking. Except he fell over his own feet in the dark, and staggered down the steps, landing hard on Adrian's shoulders.

Adrian looked up. His tears reflected strangely in the dim light. 

"Crap, are you--?" Trevor started. What was he supposed to ask? If he was okay? Of course he wasn't okay. That was the point. Neither of them were okay and all he wanted to give him was a place to be safe. And the comforts of a mansion and fortune that Trevor didn't know what else to do with. And a really good fuck, but that-- well, he could still hear Sypha's warning in his ears.

Go easy on him. What did that even mean?

"Can I hold you?" Trevor asked, sitting on the step behind him.

Adrian nodded. He leaned into Trevor's arms. "You're warm. And clumsy."

Trevor sighed. "I'm learning, okay? I've never gotten to do this before-- the men I've been with in the past, it had to be a secret. There wasn't a lot of time for comfort, or softness, and maybe I need that too."

"Don't I have to be a secret, though?" Adrian said. He gestured at the coffin. "Isn't that the point of this?"

"What? No. This is just so you can, you know, sleep."

"But-" Adrian started. He twisted around so he could face Trevor and set his hands on Trevor's shoulders. "But you're supposed to start a family, right? Find some charming noble wife, continue the Belmont line, raise a new generation of monster hunters. How could I possibly be involved in any of that?"

"Oh dear god," Trevor said. He threw his head back and laughed. "Adrian- I'm not- oh god."

"You have a destiny and a duty that I'll get in the way of."

Trevor grabbed Adrian's waist and squeezed. "Fuck all of that. I'm not interested in women. And as for the Belmont line, or whatever, I can adopt. We can adopt. Whatever."

Adrian blinked. His voice came out strained and strange. "Really?"

"Yes," Trevor said, "I've had a year to think this through, okay? I know what I'm getting into. This is what I can offer you-- what I want to offer. So what about you? What do you want?"

Adrian leaned into him. "I want to stay."

Trevor put one hand on his head, and the other on his chest. He held Adrian to him.

"Except-"

"What?" Trevor said.

"Nothing. I just, well."

"Adrian please, I'm an idiot and my brain is going to explode if you can't bring yourself to tell me what you need."

Adrian sighed. He raised his head. His eyes were clear, but still a little puffy. A small smile played around his lips. "I hope you don't expect me to spend the night down here."

"Oh. No, I don't."

Adrian bit his lip. "Where do you sleep?"

"Let me show you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out ending things is hard and I had a lot of loose ends to tie up. So, here. Have all of Adrian's sads. Some other stuff too. This ended up long.
> 
> One more on Thursday! Thanks for reading (and commenting! and the kudos!)
> 
> [Also, on the off chance you have read through this fic and went, "you know, Alucard really could have suffered more. Like, a lot more." I'm writing something new. [**Domestication**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912327) (2906 words) by [**Regina_Northwort**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_Northwort)  
>  Chapters: 1/1  
> Fandom: [Castlevania (Cartoon)](https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Castlevania%20\(Cartoon\))  
> 


	46. Epilogue (The Part with the Sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW- yeah there's sex in this one.

"How long will this take?"

Trevor looked down into the metal pot of water that was barely starting to bubble. He couldn't help himself. He grinned. "I'm sorry, are you getting impatient?"

Adrian hissed. "It's just, you made a very, um, interesting proposition and now we're doing this instead." He gestured at the bathwater Trevor was heating over the hearth.

"Well, yes. Adrian, you smell like you've been laying in a musty tomb for, you know, about a year."

"Hypocrite," Adrian said, "When we first met, you were covered in the combined contents of a barn and a tavern floor."

"And I reeked. Yeah, I know," Trevor said. He set another log on the fire below. He looked up. Adrian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, one grey hand tapping on his upper arm. Whatever Trevor had said about the smell, and he did want to get both of them clean before they went to bed, Adrian was still dreamlike, impossibly handsome, wonderfully alluring. 

Trevor dusted off his hands. He stood up, crossed the room and leaned over Adrian. "So being wet and naked next to each other isn't of interest to you."

"Oh. We would bath- together?" He gulped.

"Or it would take even longer, yeah."

"That, okay. We can do that."

Trevor chuckled. He went back to the bath water. He shook his head. "You know that we have as much time as we want, right? We don't need to rush into anything. There's no horrific bullshit waiting around the corner. We can just be, for a while. For as long as we want."

"Don't jinx it," Adrian said.

Trevor sighed. "I get it, okay? I remember feeling like it was all going to go to hell-- like just having a normal life again was too good to be true and it was gonna crash down on me at any moment. And that- goes away, eventually. I promise."

A pair of cold, strong, trembling arms wrapped around his stomach. Adrian squeezed him from behind, and set his head on Trevor's shoulder. "What if something happens to you?"

"To me?"

"What if you get hurt?" Adrian said, "What if- I mean- you're human."

"Well, I'm counting on you to not declare war on humanity, if that's what you mean," Trevor said. He leaned back and turned his head. He found Adrian's eyes, and the fear in them. "I'm not exactly breakable, Adrian."

"I know that, I know, I just-"

"Hey there," Trevor said, squirming as Adrian slipped his hand under his shirt, "Can I, uhh, help you?"

Adrian reached down Trevor's side. Trevor shivered when he reached his hip. Adrian pressed in. His cold fingers traced the scars there.

"You got hurt so easily."

"Yeah. But I also got better," Trevor said. He twisted in Adrian's hold. Then he looked down. The water was bubbling. It would be warm enough. He grunted and tried to lift it up.

"Please, Trevor, let me," Adrian said. He lifted the large bucket from its perch and Trevor's hold. 

Trevor ducked out of the way and glared at Adrian, who held the bulky bucket like it was nothing. "Show off."

"Lead the way," Adrian said.

 

Trevor sank into the warm water gratefully. This was the advantage of wearing simple clothes and having no qualms about just pulling everything off and leaving it in a heap on the floor. He got to enjoy the view.

Adrian pulled off his shirt. He folded it and set it on top of his overcoat. He bent over and jerked at the laces of his shoes.

Trevor sighed. He leaned back in the tub, feeling the warmth working into his shoulders. All the tension he'd been holding, all of the waiting and apprehension left his body. Adrian was here. He was going to stay. Trevor had built himself a safe place in the world that they could share.

He sighed again, and Adrian raised his head. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah. You gonna join in, or?"

Adrian tried to tug off his boot and nearly fell over. He caught himself with a hiss.

Trevor chuckled. "Do you need help?"

Adrian flopped onto the floor and looked up at him. He wrinkled his nose. "Not if you’re going to rip my clothes off again."

"I didn't--"

"I had to darn my cloak, Trevor."

"I was excited."

Adrian shook his head. He started on his second boot. "I was too. I'm, umm, excited to do this again."

"So am I," Trevor said. He shifted, and ran wet fingers through his hair. "There's some stuff I'd like to try with you."

Adrian set his boots beside his clothes. He looked up and arched a brow at Trevor. "Go on."

Trevor cleared his throat. "Well, I have lube in the bedroom and--"

"Ah," Adrian said. He slipped off his pants. "Sex then? Is that all?"

Blood rushed to Trevor's face. And elsewhere to. "I mean, you said you'd never done anything before."

"Well, no. But I'm versed in the theory of the thing," Adrian said. He stepped out of his underwear and draped them on top of his pile. He walked to the tub and leaned over the basin. He grinned at Trevor. "You want to, uhh, penetrate me, then?"

Trevor raised his hands. He flicked water at Adrian. "Come get clean."

Adrian slipped into the tub with a sigh. There was barely enough space for both of them. Trevor pressed into the edge to make room. He winced when water sloshed out onto the floor. He'd have to clean that.

Then Adrian leaned into him. Trevor groaned. That was distracting.

"I actually- had something slightly different in mind," Trevor said.

"Oh?" Adrian asked. He reached past Trevor, grabbed a handful of soap and started to scrub himself.

"Well, if you've never done this before-"

"Yes, Trevor. We've established my lack of experience," Adrian said dryly.

"In general, it's easier, your first time, if you, umm," Trevor started. He felt his face turning red. Why was it so hard to just say what he wanted- what he was envisioning?

"Yes?" Adrian asked. He kissed between Trevor's shoulder blades.

Trevor sighed. He leaned back and ground his ass into Adrian's crotch.

"Oh," Adrian gasped. Suddenly, he was clutching Trevor's chest. He shuddered. "You want-"

Trevor pressed his body into his. He tilted his head back. It wasn't just Adrian's labored breathing, nor his cock pressed to Trevor's tailbone. It was his wide eyes and the way he chewed on his lip. Trevor grinned and spoke into his ear. "Fuck me."

"B-but what if I hurt you?"

Trevor rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I can take you."

 

They barely bothered to dry off. Trevor gave Adrian just enough time to wrap a towel around his waist before leading him across the hall to his room. He held him by the wrist and led him into the bedroom.

Adrian chuckled as Trevor pushed open the door. "So you do have a bed, at least."

"Yeah," Trevor said. He let the towel slip off of his body and crawled onto the mattress. He wasn't interested in being enticing. He just wanted to grab the lube and see if his body remembered how to do this.

Behind him, Adrian groaned. 

Trevor grabbed a jar off the bedside table. He looked around, afraid he'd find Adrian collapsed and distraught again. Adrian leaned on the doorframe. He was staring. His mouth was slightly open and the towel he'd wrapped around himself was no longer doing anything to hide his erection.

"What is it?" Trevor said.

"I- I want to play with you."

Trevor rolled over. He gestured for Adrian with his free hand. He grinned. "Then come play with me. I'm gonna need some warming up before-"

Trevor never got to finish. He didn't see Adrian move from the doorframe. Suddenly, he was just on top of him. His hands pressed on Trevor's chest and he leaned over him with a growl.

"Bit cliche, don't you think?"

Adrian laughed. "Perhaps." He pressed his lips to the side of Trevor's neck.

Trevor moaned. That was very distracting. He forgot the jar, half-open in his hands. He fell into the feeling of it; Adrian's body tepid and sturdy over his own, cascades of his hair draped on Trevor's face and chest. He could smell him. Under the harsh scent of the soap, he smelled like the inner covers of old books.

Adrian cradled Trevor's head and ran his tongue up to his jaw. 

"Adrian?"

Adrian's fingers curled into Trevor's hair. He growled and nibbled around the edge of Trevor's ear.

"Adrian?" Trevor repeated. He tapped Adrian's shoulder.

"Yes?" Adrian rasped. He looked up.

"Don't get me wrong. This is great. But you're kinda crushing me and I, uh, need to lift my legs so I can do- this."

"Ah yes," Adrian said, as though he'd just remembered that there was a point to all of this, "Here. Allow me."

He rose with a last kiss on Trevor's cheek. Then he smirked. Trevor gulped. Adrian grabbed his ankle and hooked his leg over his shoulder.

Trevor felt his face heat up.

"Does that work?" Adrian asked mildly.

Trevor moaned and nodded. Adrian's cock was inches from his ass. He was very exposed. 

"Is it alright if I watch?"

Fuck. "Yeah," Trevor said. Dammit. He was panting and breathless. He was already starting to leak precum and Adrian was just watching, abruptly a removed observer, his head tilted and his lips pursed as Trevor brought his slick fingers down and started to work himself open.

"Poor thing," Adrian said. He nuzzled Trevor's leg. He kissed his knee.

Trevor narrowed his eyes. Where had he heard that before?

Adrian grinned. "If it makes you feel any better, you're putting on a lovely show for me."

Trevor snorted.

"I appreciate it," Adrian told him. He leaned in, and traced a deliberate line down Trevor's chest with his hand. "You seem to inspire all of my most- human instincts. I want to understand how to do this."

"Yeah, well, you can thank me later," Trevor said.

"I will," Adrian said. He grinned again. "And now."

He brought his fingers down Trevor's stomach. He reached Trevor's cock and grazed the head, catching his precum between his fingers. He put it to his lips and licked.

"Fuck," Trevor grunted.

"I'm going to have fun with you," Adrian said, as though he wasn't the absurd realization of all of Trevor's most shameful fantasies. He returned his hand to Trevor's cock and started running his thumb across the underside of Trevor's swollen head.

Trevor bit his lip to keep from whimpering. He needed to get his hands free, but he was still easing himself loose with one and holding the jar with the other. He needed to hold out and not orgasm onto Adrian's hand before he'd even had a chance to fuck him.

Trevor sighed. He looked past Adrian and forced himself to focus on anything other than the sensation of being played with. Anything other than the unearthly vampire prince bedding him.

"Adrian, will you, uhh-"

Adrian's hand paused. He looked up. "Yes?"

Trevor gulped. "Would you close the door?"

"What?" Adrian said. He twisted. "Oh."

"Yeah," Trevor said, as though this wasn't a veiled attempt to buy himself a few seconds and regain some composure. Incessant, broiling pressure was building just below his stomach, threatening to break him open at the slightest touch.

Adrian gently unhooked Trevor's leg from around his shoulder. He slipped off the bed with that hypnotic grace. This was doing nothing to lessen Trevor's excitement. He looked up to the ceiling, took a long, deep breath and finished lubbing himself up.

"Okay," Trevor said, "I'm, uhh, ready whenever you are." He was far too ready in fact. 

Adrian chuckled. The door creaked closed. Trevor expected him to pounce. Instead, he prowled around the bed.

"Mmm. What a wonderfully inviting picture," he said.

He mounted the mattress and loomed over Trevor. And Trevor should have flipped him off and called him a ridiculous, pretentious vampire, except his breath caught in his throat and he let out a whine instead.

Adrian's lip twitched. He ran a hand through Trevor's hair. "So warm," he said, as his other hand grazed Trevor's neck. "So delicate."

He straddled Trevor and slowly spread his legs. "What a lovely toy for me to break."

Trevor groaned. This felt sinful- blasphemous. Spreading himself for a goddamn vampire in his family home. He grinned. And maybe it was. But he had buried these ghosts, at least enough that he could lean into the delicious irony. They'd kicked him out, and in some perverse way, this was how he kicked himself back in.

Adrian's cock brushed Trevor's hole. Trevor was jerked into the present and a desire to be filled.

"Here," he said. He took Adrian's cock between his hands and helped him angle in. Then he leaned back.

Adrian gasped. He grabbed both of Trevor's legs this time and lifted him off the bed. His first thrust was long and slow, trembling.

Trevor took a deep breath and let his body loosen up.

"Fuck," Adrian growled, "You're divine."

"I'm sorry. Is my holy asshole burning you?"

Adrian starred. Then he chuckled. "No, Belmont. You're perfect." He withdrew slightly, and took a breath like he was preparing to dive. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah. Just fuck me already."

"With pleasure," Adrian said. He started to thrust.

Trevor's eyes rolled back. He reached forward, set his hands on Adrian's hips. If he could just get him to thrust a little further, at a slightly different angle.

Adrian responded with a grunt. He shifted slightly and Trevor gasped. There it was. He sank back and moaned.

"Is that-?" Adrian started.

"Yeah. Like that."

Even as Trevor leaned into the feeling of being worked over and thrust into the mattress, he couldn't help envisioning the positions reversed. He wanted to warm Adrian up, fluster him again, play with the cluster of nerves inside him until he was where Trevor was now- overwhelmed and panting at every thrust, clinging to his hips to try to buy a little more time before he broke. He dribbled onto his own stomach.

"Adrian?"

"Yes?"

"Fuck."

"Ah."

Trevor looked up. Adrian was also shaking, a tremor Trevor could feel in his chest. His mouth was open and his gold eyes were blurry, half seeing. He held Trevor's legs. It was a ridiculous position, far too strenuous for a regular person to keep up. And Adrian seemed to be relishing every absurd minute of it.

Fuck. He wanted to splay Adrian out on his stomach and lift his ass into the air. He wanted to ease him open and see if he could make him beg. Trevor wanted to savor every beautiful, lean curve of him. He wanted to unmake him. He wanted to show him every dirty, carnal thing they could try together.

Trevor threw his head back and started to shake.

"Adrian- Adrian I'm going to-"

Adrian seemed to understand. Somehow, he reached forward and started pumping Trevor's cock without missing a thrust.

"Trevor?"

"Yeah?"

Adrian punctuated his command with a particularly forceful thrust that ran like a wave up Trevor's body. "Beg."

Fuck. "Please- can I?"

"Are you going to make a mess of yourself?"

Trevor nodded helplessly. He was trembling at the edge, panting. "P-please? I'm so close."

"Then come for me," Adrian said, thrusting and panting himself.

Trevor tumbled over the edge with a moan. The idea of Adrian curled in around him; sin and pleasure and release and safety and so much built up tension all twisting into a throbbing, thrumming chorus and his pulse in his ears. Trevor's last coherent thought was that it was so damn nice to do this on his own bed.

Trevor gasped as Adrian's thrusts became shorter and more strained. He was breaking Trevor open, curling him further and further in, subsuming him. His last thrust arrived with a groan and Trevor felt him pulsing inside him.

Trevor sank back, messy and unmade and panting.

"You- you're good," Adrian said. He swayed slightly, looking spent for the first time. 

Trevor grinned blurrily at him. He gave Adrian a thumbs up. Adrian slowly eased Trevor's legs back onto the bed. He put a hand on his head and blinked. "I, uhh, wow."

"Yeah?" Trevor breathed. He was tingling, and his heartbeat was still loud in his ears. "You okay?"

Adrian nodded. He smiled. "Not bad."

Trevor had to suppress a whimper when he suddenly withdrew. Adrian clambered off the bed. He looked around. "Ah. That'll do."

Trevor raised his head and just spotted Adrian's ass as he bent over at the door. 

"Are you going to need to sleep now?" Adrian asked. He came back with one of the towels and tucked it under Trevor's ass.

"Probably," Trevor said, "Once I, uh, come down a little."

Adrian sighed. He slipped onto the bed. "Time for one thing first?"

"Yeah, sure."

Adrian knelt next to him. He caught his tangled hair in one hand and pulled it out of the way. He leaned forward and put his lips on Trevor's stomach. He licked up the cloudy puddle just below Trevor's belly button.

"Oh. So that's a thing, huh?"

Adrian looked up at him. "Yes, actually." He licked his lips.

"Cool," Trevor said. He yawned.

Adrian settled into the bed.

 

When Trevor woke up, he was still there. Adrian was not a dream. He was solid and slowly breathing at Trevor's side. It was dark.

He looked over. Adrian stared up at the ceiling. He had a finger in his mouth, gently prodding up where his canines had been.

"Hey there. You okay?"

"Sorry," Adrian said. He removed his hand. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," Trevor said. He paused, and then reached over for Adrian's hand. "Your fangs?"

Adrian winced. "I can feeling them growing back. Give it another year, they might be visible again."

"Good," Trevor yawned.

Adrian looked over at him. He raised an eyebrow. "Even if they frighten you?"

"I told you, I'll get used to it," Trevor said, "I want to love you. All of you. As you are."

"Love?"

Trevor gulped. He was suddenly very awake. "Fuck."

Adrian laughed. "You're moving too fast for me, Trevor. I- I don't know if I'm in a place where I could return your affections."

"You don't have to," Trevor said, "I don't mean to force that on you. I didn't mean to- I know this is a lot."

"It is," Adrian said. He squeezed Trevor's fingers. "It's nice, honestly. You're a good distraction."

Trevor snorted. He stretched and rolled onto Adrian. "And you're a good mattress."

"Hey," Adrian said, "Don't make me push you off."

Trevor yawned again. "Night."

Adrian sighed. He rested his hands in Trevor's hair.

"Goodnight, Trevor."

Trevor nuzzled his face into Adrian's chest and considered. No. They were not ready. Neither of them were okay. They still had their grief and their ghosts to bury. They could face them when they were able. They could face them together.

Trevor fell back to sleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And roll credits...
> 
> So, guess that's what it feels like to write a fanfic. This is officially my longest work of fiction, which feels nice (although now I'm even more impressed with people who manage 100K+ stories). 
> 
> If you've read down to here-- thank you so much for going on this journey with me! It's been wild. I have another Trevocard and a Trephacard fic both in progress (cause I've been writing since NaNo and I don't know how to stop). I'll be updating them weekly if you want to give them a read.
> 
> Getting support from all you cool internet people has been amazing! It's given me a lot more confidence in my writing and helped me through some nasty patches of writers block. Thanks for the kudos and comments and just the general love! They've meant everything to me!


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